


The Lucky One

by baeconandeggs, shinealightrose



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, BAE2017, M/M, Sex, Voluntary Prostitution, allusion to sex trafficking, mild futuristic drug addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/shinealightrose
Summary: Chanyeol is royalty, Baekhyun’s career is ignoble, half the universe is at war with the other, but in this part of the galaxy it’s the winners who call the shots.





	The Lucky One

**Author's Note:**

> Author: anonymous  
> Prompt#: 350  
> Title: The Lucky One  
> Word Count: 20,000  
> Side Pairing(s): brief non-romantic!Baekxing & Baekhera  
> Rating: NC17  
> Warning(s):Voluntary prostitution, allusion to sex trafficking; mild futuristic drug addiction; sex; Sesoo are dicks, I’m so sorry  
> Disclaimer: The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note:Thanks to the mods who put on a great fest every year, and to the writers and readers! Please enjoy this fic, It… got away from me, yeah.

He pushed Baekhyun down onto the bed, hands busy, mouth searching. A low moan ripped from his lungs as he pulled back and tugged off his clothes. His shirt got stuck on his shoulder, his belt refused to unfasten easily. One sock stayed persistently put but Chanyeol growled and yanked it off. Baekhyun lay motionless on the bed, eyes on fire, lighting up when Chanyeol threw himself upon him again. Instantly, Baekhyun spun, bare legs tightening around Chanyeol’s waist as he flipped them over. Then he was the one hovering above, hands busy on Chanyeol’s waist, mouth searching for a nipple, the hollow of his neck, anything he could get his lips around.  
  
At the first velvety touch of Baekhyun’s hand around his cock, Chanyeol keened. His body turned rigid, head falling back, throat on display. Baekhyun sucked on that too as he worked them both up into a rage of desire.  
  
Chanyeol fitted their hips together, guiding Baekhyun to sink onto his length. They cried out in rhythm with each other, shallow thrusts growing deeper.  
  
Then, just before he could come, Chanyeol said those stupid, stupid words.  
  
“Baekhyun… I think… I think I love you.”  
  
Baekhyun gasped, and stilled. He’d had his hand on his cock. Now, he let it go.  
  
“What?”  
  
Sweat poured instantly from Chanyeol’s pours. His heart tensed up, panic sinking in as he sang every curse word in every language in all the known galaxies.  
  
Because Baekhyun was just a high class whore with a no-love clause in his contract.  
  
“What did you say?” Baekhyun’s voice was high pitched and throaty, and clearly alarmed.  
  
Chanyeol winced, cock still deeply embedded, painfully throbbing and hard.  
  
“I said… shit.”  
  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
The first time Chanyeol heard the name Baekhyun, he was eight years old. Eight years old, with his hair slicked artificially back off his forehead, stuffed into his little military uniform that was more for play and prestige than for any kind of practicality. He felt like a doll, a toy, and to his parents Chanyeol practically was. Halfway across the galaxy a war raged on, but Chanyeol’s family was royalty. They could afford to pretend it didn’t affect them.  
  
Chanyeol trotted after his brothers. They were all taller than him, much more chique. Their uniforms actually fit their bodies well, making them look less like toy soldiers. The royal red and silver crescent emblems of their clan drew the eye of everyone at the gala.  
  
The first time Chanyeol saw the person Baekhyun, Chanyeol was eight years old. The lights of the auditorium dimmed until they glittered like the stars over their heads. Halfway across the galaxy a war raged on, but inside the Silver Globe Theater, all the finest of the Federation families displayed themselves and their wealth for the play of the century.  
  
Chanyeol fidgeted with his necktie, uninterested in the stage and more concerned with what they would eat afterwards for dinner. Delicacies, hopefully, from the Crescent Solar System, sweet confectionaries that wetted the tastebuds and rotted the teeth. He had no interest in plays or musicals, relics from the long distant past but revived year after year for the benefit of those who could pay.  
  
The first time Chanyeol heard Baekhyun’s voice, his body froze in shock. It was a thin, delicate voice that somehow carried across the stage. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so mesmerizing if the body that emitted it hadn’t been that of a child, a boy with beautiful features and silver hair. Baekhyun could not have been more than a year older than Chanyeol.  
  
Somehow, Chanyeol sat up a little straighter for the rest of the performance. He stopped messing with his uniform, he quit tugging on his hair. His closest brother no longer had to nudge him to keep from drumming his boots against the chair in front of him.  
  
During intermission he managed to snag a program through which he anxiously flipped to find the cast and character list. There, there he was. Baekhyun, no family name. Nine years old from the Crystal Galaxy, the war-torn galaxy.  
  
“Probably a tribute slave,” said Chanyeol’s brother, looking over his shoulder while Chanyeol spent a little too long staring at the tiny caption beneath Baekhyun’s tiny profile picture.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Children captured in war? They’re sent here for their own good. Sometimes they turn out well.”  
  
The way he said it made something in Chanyeol’s insides bristle up with anger. _Sometimes_ they turn out well, as if a child actor landing a starring role in a critically acclaimed play was good, but not good enough.  
  
“Oh.” He knew better than to make a retort. Instead, he pegged his energy into the rest of the performance, perking up whenever Baekhyun was on stage, growing bored wherever he was not. Chanyeol might be a prince, but Baekhyun was but a year older than him and in some small way, living and enjoying life more than Chanyeol ever had or ever would. Such was fantasy of course, Chanyeol had to admit. But in the dim auditorium with nothing but fancy, Chanyeol could dream.  
  
And dream he did, for many a night after that. Forgotten was the plot of the play, lost to memory those after dinner delicacies he’d so looked forward to. For many a year, the only thing Chanyeol remembered was a boy named Baekhyun, forever nine years old and beautiful, a tribute slave from the Crystal Galaxy.  
  
  
  
  
  
He pretended to be surprised later on, claiming awe the first time he saw Baekhyun’s grown up face plastered to the side of a three hundred-floor building in the capital city. He’d been drifting off near the end of the flight, head hanging dangerously close to his friend’s bony shoulder. As their shuttle neared the landing bay, he opened his eyes. The holographic windows depicted exactly what he would see if they’d indeed been made of glass.  
  
The second time Chanyeol saw Baekhyun again, Chanyeol was nineteen years old, infinitely more petty than he’d been as a child, ten times as rich, but just as enamored.  
  
“You know him?” Sehun’s sleep-ridden half mocking voice overrode most of Chanyeol’s thoughts in that bare moment. As if he’d been in a vacuum, and here came Sehun to drag him cruelly out.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That model. I hear he’s quite the rage right now on this planet, and more besides.” Sehun yawned. “Total ‘It-Boy’ and all that, whatever that means.”  
  
“‘It-Boy?’” asked Chanyeol.  
  
“Yeah, like ‘he’s got it all’, or something. Model, actor, singer, hangs in all the right circles.”  
  
Chanyeol itched to know more, like why he hadn’t been aware of this development in school. Like where Baekhyun had been for the last ten years since Chanyeol first saw his face on the stage. He had to admit it shocked him, seeing Baekhyun’s face like this so large, glittering against the haze and muck of the federation spaceport. The picture flickered like so many pixels then seamlessly faded into an ad for a popular brand of perfume, the kind that promised seduction and probably delivered on it. The next time Baekhyun’s face emerged it was a video this time where he smiled a delicate come-hither look, followed by a close-up of his eyes so artfully lined with paint.  
  
A model, Sehun had said. An actor, singer, It-Boy. Somehow too, Chanyeol never doubted he would see Baekhyun again like this. From a boy with such a pure smile, it was fitting Baekhyun would have made a name for himself this way. It excited Chanyeol, he was glowing, chest heaving in expectations whether for himself or for the childhood crush of his dreams…  
  
Across Sehun’s shoulder on the other side of their shuttle suite, another of Chanyeol’s rich school buddies leaned over to scoff at the image.  
  
“What’s his name?” said Kyungsoo. “Looks like he’d be a great fuck, Chanyeol, are you interested or something?”  
  
And not for the first time in his life, Chanyeol responded with disgust, his words eschewing an emotion with which his head did not agree.  
  
“Him?” Chanyeol scoffed, turning away from the window. He laughed. “I remember I’ve seen him before actually. He’s just a tribute slave.”  
  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
Across the rain drenched capital city of Oreison, hidden behind thick walls, heavy curtains, and at least one locked door, Baekhyun stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes drooped with fatigue, dark circles emerged from beneath the paint of his eyes as he tossed rag after rag into the trash can beside him until his face was bare and bereft of makeup. The burn of a dozen lights which ringed the mirror made his eyes water even more, made his head hurt until he imagined he was seeing images that weren’t even there.  
  
Someone knocked on the door. Baekhyun did not get up to open it. A moment later, as he’d figured, there came the noise of a key unlocking it from the outside.  
  
“Hello, beautiful,” came the deep, almost cranky, voice of his handler.  
  
Baekhyun shrugged. Without looking up, he said, “I’m almost done here.” He had but a few more lotions to apply to his face and neck, his veil and cape to protect him from the elements, and others’ gazes. The signature perfume, of which scent he was supposed to be modeling. Every part of him had to be perfectly brought together in keeping with his purpose.  
  
From the doorway without coming all the way in, his handler watched him work. “So meticulous, as always.”  
  
Baekhyun made no face.  
  
“Where are we off to tonight?”  
  
The hour was already growing late. Baekhyun would prefer returning home to rest, but after his appearance at the matinee, and because he had as yet no sponsor for the summer season, they would no doubt be set for some party or two.  
  
“The Oreison Summer Gala, at the Ancient Art Museum.”  
  
Baekhyun nodded blandly as he stooped to gather his things. All this work ridding his face of painted dyes, and very soon he would have to apply them once more.  
  
“Am I part of the exhibit this time?” Baekhyun quipped, not without humor.  
  
His handler smiled. “I think you’ll rather be allowed to walk around and eat this time,” he said. “Mingle with the guests, show off your pretty self.”  
  
“Find myself a sponsor?” Baekhyun stood up and moved towards the doorway, following the older man out into the hall.  
  
“I have a list of prospects I’ll read to you when we get into the shuttle,” he confirmed. “But your main priority is to socialize of course. The museum has already deposited two thousand international credits into our account, just to enlist your presence there.”  
  
Baekhyun laughed to himself at the phrase ‘our’ accounts.  
  
“I’ll be sure to mingle brightly!” he said instead.  
  
Because Baekhyun had no accounts. Nothing, not a credit to his name, not a home, not a shuttle, not the food he ate, not even the clothes on his back belonged properly to himself.  
  
Such a bejeweled existence for a man who was little more than a slave.  
  
Oh sure, he’d once had an opportunity to leave this all behind. And yet he hadn’t taken it. Life was riddled with such things that Baekhyun no longer wondered why he committed himself to staying miserable. Because despite his better reasons, perhaps it was true what people said about him. He was too great an actor to ever let go of what he knew best: _acting._

 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
The following morning, Chanyeol’s friends were full of regrets, but not so much to stop berating him for not joining in their fun from the night before. Chanyeol was already jet-lagged from the three day flight from Oreison’s biggest moon to the orbiting space station above the planet’s sky, and just a little bit ill from the shuttle landing on the planet’s surface. It was too soon, he decided, to attend a major gala event the same evening they arrived. His friends of course considered the matter differently.  
  
“Should’ve been there, Yeol!” cried Sehun with a voice too loud, wincing at his own words from the raging hangover he carried.  
  
“Should have been there, or glad I wasn’t?”  
  
Kyungsoo wasn’t even awake yet. Instead, the young man was plastered to their hotel sofa still wearing his clothes from last night. He smelled strongly of alcohol, stale perfume, and vomit. No part of this picture made Chanyeol wish he’d gone with them instead of holing up in their extravagant two room suite. He’d ordered room service, the hotel’s finest liquor, an android massage, and a holographic dreamscape experience. It came complete with a rated fantasy depicting Chanyeol and half a dozen nude models he’d picked out via online catalogue. The dreamscape 6.0 processor plugged into the wristband on his left arm which was connected to his nervous system and shot electric signals up his veins to the brain. It was as real an experience as anyone could manufacture, and without the hassle of inviting strangers into his room. In local lingo, it was called a ‘spin’. To Chanyeol’s knowledge, neither Sehun nor Kyungsoo had had such an exciting night as he did last night, but then again—to each his own form of entertainment.  
  
Sehun was considering him across the room, a frown mingling with disappointment that Chanyeol would not bite.  
  
“One of these days, Chanyeol, you’re going to live up to your royal calling and sow some wild seeds.”  
  
“I bet all you sowed last night was some regurgitated wine,” said Chanyeol without missing a beat.  
  
Sehun did not deny it. Instead, he sighed and tilted his head, waving one airy hand around as if in defeat. He looked awful, even as he claimed to have had fun. His eyes were still bloodshot and his uniform, what he hadn’t already halfway peeled off, was a mess.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re even awake,” said Chanyeol, who by contrast had already been up for hours. He was freshly showered and dressed in a ceremonial uniform, a silvery red that bespoke his station.  
  
“I have a lunch date with my parents at noon,” Sehun replied with no real enthusiasm. “Something about flunking three-quarters of my Academy classes. Enough about that though. Guess who we saw last night!”  
  
Chanyeol raised one eyebrow. Then he yawned.  
  
Sehun, his hand once again on his forehead in a vain attempt to hold back his headache, pouted. “You’re not even going to guess? Fine, then. Just thought you’d be curious to know that fellow on the billboard yesterday, the model?”  
  
At this, Chanyeol couldn’t resist staring at his friend with a little more expectation than a second before. Sehun noticed and immediately laughed.  
  
“Yeah,” he continued. “He was there. And wow, way more handsome in person, I have to tell you.”  
  
Chanyeol looked away. “Uh huh?”  
  
Suddenly he could no longer remember the dreamscape so vividly. Suddenly all the faces of the models were replaced with Baekhyun’s, just as he’d looked on the perfume ad. The slow burn of jealousy crept through his veins, startling in its intensity. How many years had it been since Chanyeol had seen him as a boy? He whittled away the math in his head whilst ignoring Sehun’s probing stare.  
  
“Don’t worry, Kyungsoo managed to snag his schedule off some manager dude. He’s quite the public persona around here. Even more than I thought, actually.”  
  
Sehun wandered across the suite towards his luggage. It opened at a touch of his fingerprint, mechanically unfolding into various compartments, each perfectly organized with its contents on display. “Can’t believe I have to get dressed on my own,” he complained. “Don’t you think we could have snuck at least one maid into our suitcases?”  
  
Grateful for the change of topics, Chanyeol quickly responded. “The hotel offers androids-”  
  
“I don’t _want_ an android. Only _you_ like your mechanical attendants. I want flesh and blood; I want Zitao. He’s so good at doing my hair. I looked like an absolute dolt last night without him.”  
  
Chanyeol sniggered. “Well, too bad the _servir_ aren’t allowed on this planet.”  
  
“I know, I know,” Sehun complained some more. “Damnable war, when will it be over? It’s so inconvenient having to travel without an entourage.”  
  
“Get an android,” suggested Chanyeol. “Or hire an Offborn human.”  
  
“Offborns are expensive. Can’t figure out why. Just because they look like us and share most of our DNA? Incredibly expensive.”  
  
“Then you’ll just have to suffer another week.”  
  
He sighed. “Don’t worry, Chanyeol, my friend, I intend on doing just that. By the way, don’t schedule anything the day after tomorrow. Kyungsoo and I have some wild plans, and you’re obliged to come with us.”  
  
Chanyeol frowned. “What kind of plans? The kind of plans _you_ like doing, or perhaps it’s something _I_ actually like doing?”  
  
“No clue,” Sehun admitted. “But Kyungsoo promised something fun, so you’ll have to trust us.”  
  
From the sofa, Kyungsoo just snored.  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
  
The plans Kyungsoo had arranged turned out to be nothing more than a private tour through the Exotic Gardens. Chanyeol boarded the luxurious open air low atmo cruiser with some trepidation about how long this was going to take. To be sure, they had two months in Oreison, time to vacation as they pleased, but wasting an entire day drinking cocktails listening to an automated tour guide navigate them past the long lost remnants of whole civilizations’ topography seemed an especially curious way to go, even for Kyungsoo.  
  
Aboard the cruiser apart from the three of them were but a handful of other people, including one elderly couple on vacation, and a private tutor shepherding a trio of schoolgirls who were likely sisters. But there were also two government officials, their badges of rank proudly on display, lowly though they were, escorting a young man who could only be the son of some fancy foreign dignitary, if the way the officials fawned and preened over him was telling.  
  
Chanyeol met the young man’s bored expression with something resembling empathy. He received a curt smile in return. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo and Sehun entertained themselves at the inflight bar while they pretended to be mesmerized by the scenery around them. An unseen voice narrated the excursion as the cruiser adjusted to a new altitude.  
  
_“Our dear respected passengers, if you’ll look to the starboard rail, we are now entering all that remains of the Great Snowforest of the late planet Wintrus. The trees you see now were brought as saplings into our collection near the terminus of the Fifth Endung War in the year 4432 just before the Great Melting. This Snowforest once ranged across the largest mountain range ever found in the planets of the Crystal Galaxy, and is said to have contributed to an atmospheric phenomenon that powered the entire climate of the northern hemisphere and unseen elsewhere since the days of…”_  
  
Chanyeol stared gravely at the forest beyond, letting the narration drone on. The Great Snowforest, or at least the replica seen here, was certainly a treasure of the Oreison Exotic Gardens, yet to Chanyeol it looked lifeless. And it was. The trees themselves, he’d heard, were incapable of thriving outside their homeworld and owed everything to the chem-mechanical devices of Oreison’s finest engineers. At least they looked organic, and once upon a time the forest had entirely _been_ organic. Now, however, it just stood, white trunks swaying rhythmically in the breeze with branches laden heavily with manufactured ‘snow’.  
  
Such a shame, Chanyeol thought as he accepted a refill of his drink, that the original forest was destroyed along with its planet in what was generously known as the Great Melting, also known as: complete nuclear annihilation.  
  
“Awesome stuff, right?” said Kyungsoo. He gave Chanyeol such a curious stare, as if daring him to disagree.  
  
“Beautiful,” Chanyeol sort of agreed. “Never knew you were so into trees.”  
  
“What, we can’t also be academic on vacation?”  
  
Chanyeol snorted as the narration drew to a close reminding them to enjoy the view. It made zero sense to him that Kyungsoo, or even Sehun for that matter, would find this kind of thing enjoyable. “Well, as long as you enjoy your alcohol, why not stare at a dead forest while you do it.”  
  
He considered himself funny; he almost laughed. Sehun even returned a smirk, but then Chanyeol caught the gaze of the young dignitary’s son and was startled to find in his face the expression of deep disapproval.  
  
Sometimes it was hard, reminding himself he didn’t _always_ have to act like an ass. It’s just that Kyungsoo and Sehun brought out the worst in himself. And depending on where you stood in the Federation’s culture wars, the reconstructed Snowforest was either a tribute to man’s ingenuity, or a monument to the dead. Perhaps this man was of the latter persuasion.  
  
Chanyeol turned away, more morose probably than he actually showed, but he didn’t feel like participating in a public display of self reflection. Not right now anyways, when his friends were near. He sat at the bar and mostly ignored them, ordering another cocktail from the Offborn human server. The seat next to him suddenly shifted, and a body took it up. It was the dignitary's son and he was looking straight at Chanyeol.  
  
“Mind if I sit? I’m Kim Jongdae.” He held out his hand, unmindful of Chanyeol’s confused stare. Then he chuckled when Chanyeol took it. His handshake was firm even though Chanyeol’s hand engulfed it. “Good to meet you,” he continued. “My father’s the ambassador for Taranis. What’s your status on this lovely barge?”  
  
It was clear from his tone he was being facetious.  
  
“Park Chanyeol. I’m… my grandfather is the Grand Prince of Belenos.”  
  
Jongdae’s eyes widened in mild astonishment, though he didn’t appear entirely overawed. Chanyeol had always been reluctant to boast of his family’s power, but Belenos was one of the largest and most powerful planets this side of the Federated galaxies. His grandfather wielded enormous power in the Council which met every five years in person on the planet Oreison, and once every year via long communication.  
  
“Belenos,” Jongdae repeated, mulling it over. “I hear you have some nice... summers.” No mention of the last Council Assembly which ended two months ago with the controversial decision, pushed primarily by Belenos, to continue the war. Taranis, if Chanyeol recalled, was an electoral planet run by a board of presidents who voted for peace. Jongdae’s father was no doubt here now because of it.  
  
Chanyeol nodded.  
  
“What brings you to Oreison?” Jongdae asked. “Work, pleasure? Vacation?” His gaze drifted passed Chanyeol’s seat over to Sehun and Kyungsoo who were deep in conversation about some Offborn girl they had met last year and evidently shared a night with. Jongdae’s face was a mask, but Chanyeol could practically feel his revulsion.  
  
“Vacation. We have two months off from the Academy.”  
  
“Ahhh.”  
  
There was only one Academy in all of the Federated galaxies worth mentioning, so Chanyeol didn’t bother elaborating which. The Oreison Academy which operated primarily on its largest moon was where every offspring of every important somebody enrolled from the time they were twelve to the time they were twenty-two. It focused largely on government training, which was a nice way of saying it taught young adults how to be as haughty as their parents, and for the most part, it worked well.  
  
Chanyeol had never seen Jongdae there, but that didn’t surprise him. Students from Taranis were rare as they mostly stuck to their own planet.  
  
“What about you?” he asked.  
  
Jongdae indicated the two dignitaries looking uncomfortably alone on the other side of the deck. “An educational side trip. Because what reeks of decadence more than a hundred thousand acres of the finest plunder of the universe?”  
  
His smile was sharp. Chanyeol had a mind that perhaps Jongdae was trying to rile him up. It had to be boring being chaperoned by middle age government lackeys whose views Jongdae obviously didn’t share. The problem was, Chanyeol wasn’t exactly ready to bite. He grinned and held back a retort.  
  
“Will you be here long?”  
  
“A month or so,” Jongdae replied.  
  
They were still cruising past the Snowforest. Every now and then the narration would kick in, directing their eyes to the scene below, usually for a peek at some animal hiding behind the foliage. More replicas of course, pieced together by advanced taxidermy and automotive technology.  
  
“Fascinating,” said Jongdae after they passed a particularly mechanical animation of a flock of birds whose species had gone extinct upon arrival.  
  
Chanyeol glanced to make sure Kyungsoo and Sehun weren’t paying attention. Then he sighed dramatically and murmured, “Right? Any idea how long this tour is supposed to last? I got roped into this so…”  
  
Jongdae peered at his watch. “About ten more hours before the grand finale, I think?”  
  
“Grand finale?”  
  
It was probably too soon to be calling Jongdae his new friend, but the dignitary’s son smiled and appeared to lighten up. “Wait, you don’t know?”  
  
“Know what?” Chanyeol shook his head.  
  
Jongded hummed. “And here I thought everyone in the Gardens today was here for the same event. They’re revealing a brand new monument today. It’s why I consented to come along, though probably not for the same reason as most people. These dignitaries, they’re trying to impress my father, and me vicariously.” His face grew hard but he continued nevertheless, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “It’s supposed to be a rather grand occasion, I just don’t think they realize I hate these things more than most.”  
  
Still lost, Chanyeol dared to ask. “W-what is the event?”  
  
Jongdae’s eyebrows went up, his tone making it sound like here entertainment even though Chanyeol was sure it was not. “The unveiling of the Crystal Temple.”  
  
Chanyeol paled. “What? _The_ Crystal Temple?” As in, the central religious monument of the semi-conquered _Lihten_ Offborn race?!  
  
“The very one. Lifted wholesale, foundation and all, now for the viewing pleasure of Federation taxpayers. Quite the spectacle, though only a dozen cruisers were invited today to the grand event. They like to make it seem exclusive, you know?”  
  
And Chanyeol did know. It made him a little bit sick, but this was how Oreison culture—and thus how all of Federation society—operated.  
  
“I never guessed…”  
  
“I heard even Byun Baekhyun will be there today.” At Chanyeol’s astonished look, Jongdae mistook it for confusion. “You’ve heard of him of course? Yeah, they’re bring out all the stops.”  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
Baekhyun stared and stared at the temple, his jaw firmly set, anger capped off and kept from the boiling range. His handler should have told him. Also, Baekhyun should have known. Instead, he allowed a bone deep wariness to seep across his body as he turned on his stool towards the makeup mirror, a pleasant smile already plastered to his face. So many models relied these days on digital paint boxes, but Baekhyun preferred to do his face himself. He opened his kit, double checked that all his tools and brushes were there, then set about choosing the perfect color pallette for his skin. There would be no programmable paint schematics uploaded to a computer, even though the feather light instruments and relaxing head rests were growing more and more popular among the young crowd today. It wasn’t that Baekhyun didn’t trust such machines, but that he preferred to self express per his own hand. And right now, that measure of personal familiarity was all that was getting him through the afternoon. He’d see about the evening later, if he could keep smiling through.  
  
“Mister Byun, you have half an hour before the first VIP cruiser arrives. Please be in front of the temple for the preliminary shoot by then, thank you.”  
  
Baekhyun saw the Gardens employee off with another smile and a nod to show he understood. Appearances were everything here, even in front of a minor peon of the Director of Operations. Because even this person’s mode of address bespoke a certain kind of disrespect. Baekhyun wondered whether she knew of his Offborn origins, or if she just disapproved of his profession. One or the other, or both, warranted suspicion in most circles of society high and low. Of course, Baekhyun was a special case. And regardless, whoever or whatever association connected with the Exotic Gardens that had arranged for the ‘rescue’ and ‘transfer’ of the Crystal Temple, they had still solicited Baekhyun’s appearance. Indeed, he was one of the feature marks, second only to the temple itself. If anyone saw the irony of this, that only two decades ago the family of their esteemed entertainer had worshiped at this very altar, they said nothing. Baekhyun himself was obliged to say nothing.  
  
Still. “You should have told me,” he whispered harshly to his handler. The taller man bowed slightly but made no apology.  
  
“Thirty minutes, Baekhyun. Unless you want to greet the guests only half baked and half your charm still left on the table.”  
  
Baekhyun frowned. He knew better than to argue. He was hired to play the part, so play it he would. As long as no one expected him to be happy about it inside.  
  
He arrived at the set with fifteen minutes to spare. The photography crew were already in position. Baekhyun shook hands with the lead photographer and turned on his professional self.  
  
“Eunhyuk, what a dream to be working with you again. The set today is lovely.”  
  
“Oh, why thank you! But Baekhyun, my dear, _you_ are the lovely one as always.” The photographer beamed, even as he kept both of his palms wrapped about Baekhyun’s hand. It was a gesture too long and too intimate to be considered appropriate. Baekhyun removed his hand as quickly as he could without offending.  
  
One thing was true. The set was beautiful. The designer had brought in enough special memorabilia from Baekhyun’s home planet to fit the design. In the foreground were a mismatched collection of personal kneeling and sitting altars, each made of a curious metal that shone light blue in the sunlight, almost translucent. Baekhyun took a seat on one where a staff member pointed, his body tingling unpleasantly where he perched upon the gently sloped seat. As for the temple in the background, he ignored it completely. Baekhyun didn’t need to stare at it in awe. He was already familiar with the grand arched building with its blue pearlescent sheen, how it stood magnanimous like a hollow three-tiered cake.  
  
And inside those glorious ovalular windows would be nothing… Perhaps the new Oreison proprietors thought they had captured a masterpiece, the singular fantastic possession of a conquered race, but only a few outside the Crystal Galaxy knew what Baekhyun knew: that the temple had been emptied long before their invaders arrived. Emptied with its contents hidden and buried. Somewhere back ‘home’ Baekhyun’s God still lived.  
  
The first cruisers came in bringing with them the whiff of chemical fuel. Baekhyun held his breath and wrapped his long robes around himself, as though that was protection from the suddenly curious viewers who leaned over the railings of the floating ships above. Baekhyun was dressed today in a dark royal blue like a bilious cape. The folds of the arms fell well below his wrists and it trailed along the ground behind him. It was made a heavy synthetic silk and no doubt tailored to model what the Federation considered the traditional garb of the Crystal God’s priests. Baekhyun scoffed at their efforts, thought he agreed the gown was comfy, and a flattering color to match his skin. There was no tie, however, to hold the front of it closed. Baekhyun artfully gathered the material and draped it at over his knees at an angle. So there he sat, the perfect picture of poise and ease, ready to smile and play the part and do homage to his temple in the most twisted way imaginable.  
  
“Steady now, Baekhyun,” warned his handler one last time before wandering off.  
  
Half a dozen prized guests approached the set. Another cruiser was already docking behind them, its passengers cheering restlessly as they waited for the down lift to materialize. They were all distinguished looking men and women, human of course, and each of them most decidedly born on the right side of the universe. Under Eunhyuk’s watchful eye, Baekhyun sat upright and greeted each of them with a lovely smile as they marveled at the temple, at the photoshoot which they’d have the privilege of watching, and at Baekhyun himself. Most of the guests were young, rich, and fashionable. They came to see and be seen, to drink and to party, and they considered themselves modern. If there was one thing Baekhyun understood it was that every new generation thought themselves modern. And to think, this generation hadn’t yet been touched by the war; it was likely they never would be.  
  
“Byun Baekhyun! Oh what a treasure it is to see you in person!”  
  
“You’re even more exquisite than in photographs, oh how could we ever open to compare.”  
  
“Baekhyun, so lovely to see you again!”  
  
“When we heard of this event, well of course we had to attend!”  
  
“Baekhyun, have you met my cousin Ursula, oh gods, she’s such a fan. I hope you’ll dance with her later.”  
  
By the time five cruisers put down, Baekhyun had smiled so many times and shook so many hands. He was invariable the center of the flock, greeting new faces and embracing familiar ones as well. Though only one face to him was a welcome one: Luhan, who hovered near the back and whose smile when he sent it warmly in Baekhyun’s direction was a knowing expression. Then another man of whom Baekhyun knew only by name, took the other Offborn in his arms and swept him gently onwards toward another section of the grounds.  
  
Right on time Eunhyuk clapped his hands to signal the start of the photoshoot. “Quiet, silence, please! We shall now begin.”  
  
Still, he gave them five minutes for the guests to either line up in a ring to observe the photoshoot or else move on to the next set of entertainment. Only ten or so people stayed behind, half of them young men. While Baekhyun preened before the camera he did his best to block from his view the sight of their eager, ogling eyes. One in particular seemed particularly in awe. Baekhyun caught the tall young man’s eyes accidentally for a couple moments. The man just stared, gulped, and then pointedly found something else to look at.  
  
Baekhyun smirked. Sometimes he met fans who surprised him, but most of the time they were so, so predictable. He hoped this one wouldn’t find him afterwards and start immediately professing love. To be sure, there were times where such things amused him. But not today, surely, he didn’t need to do with that kind of thing today.  
  
“Now, look here, Baekhyun, please,” said Eunhyuk to get his attention, and Baekhyun sighed, wondering what it would be this time.  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
He was there. He was _right there._  
  
Chanyeol was having a hard time remaining calm. Jongdae’s warning had not come soon enough for Chanyeol to mentally prepare himself, and every reminder that this was nothing more than a ridiculous, one-sided crush on a celebrity figure Chanyeol hadn’t even met face to face were for naught.  
  
“Oh man, look at him,” Kyungsoo whispered to Sehun, his tone conspiratorial but intentionally loud. “I told you, I knew this was a good idea.”  
  
Chanyeol ignored them. Whether or not he’d been obvious in his admiration for the face of a stranger on an ad outside the spaceport, it was too late now. Baekhyun was here, right there in fact, in the exact immediate vicinity where Chanyeol could actually walk up and talk to him, touch him even, according to those already crowding around him.  
  
Yet he held back, curiously comforted by Jongdae’s near presence.  
  
Maybe because he knew Jongdae would judge him for it, but Chanyeol refused to introduce himself like those other fawning fans.  
  
“You… look like you know him,” said that man, with just a hint of cool observation.  
  
“Only by name,” Chanyeol was quick to reply. “I saw him once when I was a kid. I was at a play with my brothers, he was one of the stage actors.” He hoped he sounded nonchalant, that that was enough to wave away the first initial reaction which he had not been able to vanquish.  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
Chanyeol still found a spot to stand outside the perimeter of the photoshoot. He truly did want to see the Crystal Temple, this stolen monument to another civilization’s god. And it was beautiful, magnificent even as in every picture Chanyeol had seen. The photographs had not done it justice. Chanyeol suspected _this_ photoshoot would not do it either. Outside of its homeworld, the temple just looked tragic.  
  
And Baekhyun, was he not from this same galaxy? Chanyeol had a hard time remembering he was, for the model, actor, fashion star and all around ‘It-Boy’ had not once even looked at the temple, and his expression was impassive, his smiles only for the camera, some for his audience.  
  
The Crystal Galaxy was pretty large though, and Chanyeol knew through a sliver of his memory from a course he took years ago on cultural galactic history, that in that galaxy were over three hundred unique civilizations from over fifty habitable planets. Not all of them worshiped the same god, although by the time of First Endung War, most did. Maybe Baekhyun was among the those who did not. Or maybe Baekhyun was just one fine, damn actor.  
  
Chanyeol observed him minutely, when he thought he could get away with it. Baekhyun’s hair shone almost a silvery black. His bangs had been swept back, accentuating thick eyebrows that framed the rest of his slim face. His eyes were a deep blue, his cheeks dusted with silvery powder in pale shades of pink and blue. His lips were nude, but shiny. Beneath the royal blue robes he might have been bare. Chanyeol tried and failed not to stare where a growing swath of pale skin glistened under the lights every time he moved to reposition. It began with his neck. Then a collar bone appeared, then the other. Under the photographer’s directions Baekhyun shifted once again, stretching out on the prop on which he set and reaching an arm out long. The robe slipped, this time revealing one corner of his chest. Baekhyun moved so sensually for all that he did not make it look intentional.  
  
Someone elbowed Chanyeol in the ribs, and he looked up angrily into the face of a still snickering Kyungsoo. He’d been caught staring of course. He glanced quickly back at the subject matter and realized, Baekhyun too had caught him staring.  
  
Chanyeol flushed, and something like a log seemed to form in his throat. He gulped audibly and quickly looked away, praying no one else had noticed. Someone like Kyungsoo or Sehun. They hadn’t, but Jongdae had.  
  
“Interesting,” said Jongdae, who was just about to say more when Chanyeol heard the photographer vaguely in the distance.  
  
“Now, look here, Baekhyun, please.” His next words were more of a whisper, but there was no mistaking Baekhyun’s voice a few seconds after that, loud and upset.  
  
“What?!”  
  
Chanyeol turned his head sharply in their direction. Baekhyun looked stunned. The photo was already walking towards him impatiently waving his hands and speaking condescendingly.  
  
“What? Were you not aware of the contract? My shoot, my rules, Baekhyun. Now take off the robe.”  
  
Chanyeol lurched towards them, but Jongdae pulled him back by the arm. “Woah, buddy, slow down there.”  
  
Fury bubbled up inside like his chest when he realized what had happened. He met Jongdae’s eyes and sent him a challenging glare, shocked when he recognized in his new friend’s expression the same kind of fury, only muted.  
  
“But,” he hissed.  
  
Jongdae shook his head. “Don’t. You’ll make it worse.”  
  
Baekhyun had not noticed their exchange. With a pained expression he was still locked in a battle of wills with the photographer, who continued to make light of it. “It’s just the one sleeve, Baekhyun. And well, thigh. You have such an incredible body too, why if I were you I’d be positively ashamed if I wasn’t given the opportunity to display it. And with such a lovely backdrop too…”  
  
Baekhyun did not in fact glance at the temple behind him. But Chanyeol did notice his face turning in another direction where a tall, stony faced man was pointedly not making eye contact.  
  
The photographer continued. “Of course it’s completely up to you… I’d certainly be okay with canceling the shoot. We have only a few remaining schedules together for the rest of the year and then next year, well…”  
  
Chanyeol swore he saw a shiver pass across Baekhyun’s features. Then the corners of his lips pulled up in a pained, and finally an expressionless, smile. “Of course, Eunhyuk. My apologies, my mind was only wandering somewhere else. There’s no need to cancel. Shall we continue?”  
  
On Jongdae’s other side, Chanyeol’s friends were giggling. Some of the other guests were tittering amongst themselves. A few who had gone off earlier returned now to watch the spectacle of famed socialite Byun Baekhyun peeling off one shoulder of his deep blue robe. The fabric fell artfully in folds down the side of his body even as Baekhyun repositioned himself in front of the camera.  
  
Chanyeol looked away, but the picture was already branded in his eyes. Without even one hint of his earlier distress, Baekhyun had confidently bared half of his entire body. Strong neck muscles sunk down into the most delicate collar bone, which touched upon a well built chest and firm stomach. His skin was smooth, flawless, _perfect,_ Chanyeol thought, even as he pushed aside a vague ache of desire welling up deep beneath his gut. Baekhyun had let the robe fall away from his pelvis too. He sat there fully exposed and pretending it was normal. But it wasn’t. It _shouldn’t_ be normal.  
  
“Chanyeol, I can’t believe you’re missing this,” said Sehun.  
  
Chanyeol ignored him. His eyes sought Jongdae’s again, confident that at least here was someone who shared his disgust.  
  
“Do you want to go?” asked Jongdae. Chanyeol nodded, grateful for the suggestion. He didn’t want to leave Baekhyun, but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t even _know_ him. He knew nothing about him.  
  
Still, hating himself, he looked back one last time.  
  
Baekhyun was looking straight at him.  
  
  
  
  
  
The party, once it got into full swing, was just like a million others. The platform floated in midair, levitating gently towards the ground whenever a guest came on or off, sometimes floating so high Chanyeol could see the entirety of the park with its countless stolen artifacts, architecture, and ecology. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there was nothing native to the planet Oreison here.  
  
He found himself ignoring Kyungsoo and Sehun more often than not. They had immediately gotten themselves drunk, one flopped over the bar, another on whatever guest was nearest. Chanyeol grimaced every time he caught sight of them. He stuck to Jongdae instead.  
  
Baekhyun didn’t make a reappearance until an hour into the party. He was fully dressed this time with his makeup redone. He was all smiles and chatter, conversing equitably with anyone who buzzed around him. And quite a few people did. Chanyeol was not one of them.  
  
“You know,” said Jongdae once, as Chanyeol caught himself staring across the platform again, “for someone who claims practically no history with that one there…” he indicated Baekhyun, “you do seem to have a strange fascination for him.”  
  
Chanyeol grunted, because how did one go about explaining a crush in a manner less than crude?  
  
Fortunately Jongdae did not continue on this line of conversation.  
  
_Unfortunately,_ that was not the end of the matter.  
  
Perhaps it was just what he did, but Baekhyun did not stay in one place all night. Chanyeol noticed him making the rounds, sometimes in small groups of sycophants, sometimes with another man locked elbow to elbow—one of the people there Baekhyun seemed already to know. Chanyeol watched warily as Baekhyun drew closer and closer to his corner of the platform, his nerves on edge from pretending disinterest.  
  
Sehun appeared right by his side as Baekhyun’s party came upon them.  
  
“Oh, Chanyeol, look who it is!”  
  
By the sound of his teasing, Chanyeol grew red, and Baekhyun suddenly stared. Sehun refused to let up.  
  
“Chanyeol here’s an admirer of yours. We’re here tonight especially because of that.”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyebrows went up, and his smile suddenly dimmed, replaced instead with a haughty, measuring look. “Chanyeol, is it?”  
  
“He’s a prince,” said Sehun confidently.  
  
Chanyeol faltered and realized belatedly that Jongdae was not here to save him. “Ahhhhmm.”  
  
Baekhyun laughed. “Cute,” he said, before wandering off.  
  
It was then Kyungsoo reappeared. He was tipsy, but before Baekhyun was out of earshot, Kyungsoo whispered dramatically, “Chanyeol, I just learned he can be _bought!_ Can you believe that? That’s totally your game, right?”  
  
As the world seemed to shrink, but not enough to make Chanyeol disappear, Baekhyun turned back to appraise him. He looked amused, but just a little bit disgusted. The man standing beside him tugged at his arm,. Baekhyun ignored him.  
  
Bravely, Chanyeol met his gaze, an apology right at the tip of his tongue, though it refused to come out.  
  
“I…” he began.  
  
“I suppose you’re an interested party then, _Prince_ Chanyeol. Well, call up my handler in a month. I’m afraid I’m booked for the time being. So for tonight, you can look all you want, but I’m afraid to say, you can’t touch.”  
  
Then he vanished in a swish of his friend’s robes.  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
Baekhyun was mortified, though he fancied he hid it rather well. Relatively well, at least. Luhan refused to leave his side for the rest of the evening, and just this once the presence of the other Offborn was a comforting thing. Luhan understood; he knew just what that felt like. To be in the midst of glitz and glamor and then be suddenly reminded that you were nothing but chattel.  
  
To be a sure, he felt a tiny bit bad. The man’s face, Chanyeol’s, had burned bright red in embarrassment. After all, it hadn’t been him who’d spoken first. Also, he had not stayed around at the photoshoot to watch Baekhyun’s complete humiliation at the hands of the photographer.  
  
“What are you looking at?” Luhan whispered, hand still rubbing comforting circles on Baekhyun’s lower back.  
  
Baekhyun startled and dragged his gaze away from the morose figure of Chanyeol moping in the far corner.  
  
He shivered and pulled his robes around him. The platform was now quite high in the atmosphere. “Nothing,” he said quickly.  
  
Luhan did not buy it. “You might go apologize, you know. What if he really does want to sponsor you next? Or-”  
  
Baekhyun snorted. “Honestly, that’s the least of my worries.”  
  
“You could let me finish, Baekhyun. I was going to say, he doesn’t actually look like that kind of guy. I think you really embarrassed him.”  
  
Sighing, Baekhyun considered it, but only for a moment. “He’s a prince. I think his dignity can take a single punch and live to tell the tale.”  
  
Whether he regretted it or not, Baekhyun really didn’t care to go about fixing things. For the moment he had been left alone at the party, a rare chance to breathe without thinking about what charming thing he’d have to say next.  
  
What a shame then, that his gut refused to let it go.  
  
Once upon a time, being mean hadn’t been in his nature. On the other hand, after the day he’d just had, Baekhyun wasn’t sure he had the energy to make amends.  
  
He moved over time to another spot on the platform, sometimes entertaining the guests, one who whom asked him to sing a song. It was just a silly drinking song, but Baekhyun sang it with cheer. Out of the side of his eye, he saw Chanyeol watching him again. Baekhyun turned away and gravitated to another place. Luhan finally let him go to wander after his date. By the time the events staff corralled everyone into the center of the platform to reveal a giant cake the exact replica of the Crystal Temple, Baekhyun excused himself.  
  
“Down, please,” he asked the attendant in charge of the platform lift. Rather than wait for the entire platform to descend, he stepped up to the line and, taking a deep breath, prepared for the sensation of floating. The lift was made of particles Baekhyun had never experienced on his home world. Molecules that appeared as light swarmed his body like a cushion and compressed on all sides. By the time he finished his exhale, his feet were on the ground.  
  
It was also cold down here, but he was blissfully alone. Alone in front of the temple he’d thought years ago to never see again. It would be empty now. With small, hesitant steps, Baekhyun walked towards it, eyes marveling at the sight which earlier he had refused to acknowledge. Oddly, he expected to cry, yet he was dry eyed.  
  
There was somebody already inside the outermost room of the temple.  
  
“Oh!” said a deep voice.  
  
Chanyeol shone blue from the illuminated lights refracting across the room. Beyond would be more empty hallways leading to smaller enclaves and places of private worship. Empty shrines missing their statues, devoid of furniture, full up only with the moonlight which pressed in through the translucent architecture. For a temple which had always been a place of the night, it was eerily devoid of life now, with one notable exception.  
  
Baekhyun sighed. “Figured it would be you.”  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugged. “I didn’t think anyone had left the party already.”  
  
Chanyeol gulped so audibly Baekhyun could hear it. He sounded as nervous as he looked, even in the dim light. “These parties… aren’t really my thing. Why did _you_ leave?”  
  
“I was tired of preening like a caged bird, why else?”  
  
Chanyeol had nothing to say to that. Baekhyun guessed he was probably easy to fluster. He turned his gaze away and stared about the temple room. It was as he expected it to be: empty. Maybe the curators of the Oreison Garden were proud of their new acquisition, but not a single Offborn who truly knew his god imagined he could be defeated this simply. Baekhyun was standing in but a building after all, just a structure, a hollow vessel. And with one of his conquerors, no less.  
  
“Where are you from, _Prince_ Chanyeol?”  
  
Chanyeol grimaced, but the first thing he said was, “Just, Chanyeol, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“You aren’t a real prince then?”  
  
There was a slight hesitation. “I am, sort of. My… grandfather is the Grand Prince of Belenos.”  
  
Baekhyun whistled.  
  
“I guessed you were a somebody, but here you are actually _exalted!”_  
  
“It’s really nothing,” Chanyeol pleaded.  
  
“Ah, well there you have it wrong. Maybe it feels like nothing to you, but as an Offborn who makes his profession in the—shall we call it the escort business?— guys like you are how I make my living, and believe me when I say, royalty talks.”  
  
Chanyeol didn’t seem to know what to do this line of conversation. He bowed his head, looking awkward. Baekhyun had a change of heart.  
  
“I’m sorry, this isn’t actually want I wanted to say to you.”  
  
That made the other perk up a little. “You… had something to say?”  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun wavered and transferred his weight from one foot to another. “I guess an apology for earlier. I have this tendency to say whatever’s on my mind and sometimes it comes out sounding really, I don’t know, rude?”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Baekhyun didn’t expect that reply. “Oh?”  
  
“I mean, uhm. Well, thanks.”  
  
“Thanks?”  
  
“For the apology. Although, I guess I don’t really blame you for thinking that way. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before.”  
  
Baekhyun’s eyebrows rode up. Here was a man, a prince in fact, apologizing for eyeing Baekhyun’s body? He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”  
  
Chanyeol hummed, and Baekhyun assume this was the end. But then the other took a hesitant few steps towards the entryway, pausing only when Baekhyun stood within several arms width away. Baekhyun stepped to the side to clear the way, only Chanyeol did not move. For the first time this evening Chanyeol did not look away when Baekhyun caught him staring.  
  
“What?” he deflected.  
  
Chanyeol opened and closed his mouth. Then he opened it again. “How can you be used to it though? Are you really okay?”  
  
Baekhyun balked. No one had every asked him that, no person of the Oreison Alliance at least, surely. Words, feelings, thoughts. So much of it welled up inside Baekhyun’s mind in response to this unexpected, sympathetic body. Was Chanyeol asking because he really wanted to know, or was it just his version of smalltalk? Somehow Baekhyun doubted the latter. Chanyeol’s face was too earnest. Still though, Baekhyun shut down those emotions before they could spring to life.  
  
“Do you like me? Is that why you ask?”  
  
And because Baekhyun expected the answer, if perhaps not such bold honesty, he wasn’t terribly surprised when Chanyeol nodded.  
  
“Then no, Prince Chanyeol of Belenos, you really don’t want to know. Goodnight.”  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol remembered little else of the party that might. Recognizing a sign of dismissal, he’d rushed out of the empty, solemn temple, breath heaving by the time he returned to the lift, heart still thudding as he pounded across the platform. Sehun and Kyungsoo were still up to their merry drinking games. Jongdae was cornered by the two government lackeys being lectured to on the merits of cross-cultural exchange programs. Chanyeol didn’t know how to help him there. Instead, he went straight for the bar and laid his arm across the counter.  
  
A small Offborn man in server’s gear eyed him up shortly.  
  
“Alcohol or…”  
  
“A spin, please. General fabrication, or whatever you’ve got.”  
  
The server seemed hesitant, but Chanyeol did not remove his arm, watchface up. The man then grunted and disappeared. He returned several moments later with a small plug-in and proceeded to line it up to the connector on Chanyeol’s arm. Chanyeol pointedly avoided eye contact. Public spins had only been legal for about fifty years, yet still the stigma remained.  
  
He breathed in deeply as the tingling began, little shots of energy traveling into his nervous system, seeking the brain. One spin, or pulse, wouldn’t hurt a thing, only blur the lines of reality. Two spins, enough for a full sexual experience, legal for public connection but not recommended. Three, well that’s what Chanyeol liked to set himself up with in private, in a hotel room. Four was pushing the limit of what the mind could handle. Five might have your line of address officially moved into an asylum… It seemed messing with the brain still had consequences, even with all their modern medical efficiency.  
  
Within five minutes it had the effect Chanyeol wanted. It seemed he was in a dream, though the scene had not changed. The same people swirled around from one vista to another, only happier in Chanyeol’s own mind. Little colorful animals yapped at their feet, barely wisps, which made Chanyeol smile. A woman’s head morphed seamlessly into an apple, while beside her a gentleman’s rear end turned into a peach. Chanyeol giggled. Time sped onwards. He was sitting down, but then he was dancing, reaching across for his partner’s hand only it was a kitten instead. The vision drained away like streaks of a watercolor painting, and Jongdae was there smiling at him daringly. His entire face changed into a parrot. Vaguely, off in the distance, he heard people talking. Most of it was was a blur, some he recognized.  
  
“Shit, Joonmyun, what did you give him?” Was that Jongdae’s voice? Chanyeol thought it might be.  
  
“Single spin hookup. Fruits and animals mostly, who knows what you look like to him right now.”  
  
Someone was leaning into him. “Baekhyun?” Chanyeol babbled, before the parrot looked again like a man.  
  
“Guess again, friend,” said Jongdae. Chanyeol giggled some more. Someone sighed. Another someone cooed like a dove, literally. Across the platform a pineapple danced with a baboon.  
  
“Joonmyun, I’m going to need to ask you for a favor…”  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol only woke up ten hours later in an unfamiliar bed, naked except for a bathrobe, and his head spinning in all directions while he shook off thoughts of floating down rainbows.  
  
“Oh, you’re awake?” asked a voice.  
  
“Uhhhhh,” said Chanyeol heavily.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes.”  
  
Chanyeol rubbed his eyes, starting to make out the outline of Jongdae’s face. “Where am I?”  
  
“My hotel.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Wherein Jongdae spun him a crazy tale about taking him home from a party last night and having wild sex thereafter. “What?” Chanyeol grunted, as Jongdae went on. He was halfway through describing the act, gesticulating grandly with his hands and reciting words Chanyeol supposedly had cried, when Chanyeol shook his head.  
  
“T-that, that didn’t happen,” he said.  
  
“No shit, of course it didn’t happen,” said Jongdae. “But I thought you might prefer that to me telling you how you took a spin, tripped over a porcupine, then proceeded to cry about cereal and bananas before I took you home, since your own friends were wasted. Then you got here, took another spin, and jerked off for half an hour while calling out Baekhyun’s name, and oh boy, am I glad we got you out of public at least before you did that. _Prince_ Chanyeol, who I only met yesterday, you have got a lot of explaining to do and oh by the way, wash my sheets.”  
  
Finally, Chanyeol remembered.  
  
“Shit.”

 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
Down the center of Oreison City rushed a great river. Icy in the north where it descended from a large mountain range, the waters were still frigid here. It was lengthy across and rushing. Like the city which was the metropolis of the universe, it never ran still, always alive, raging and restless. On a clear day it shone in a myriad of greens. Most of the time it was black.  
  
The view from Chanyeol’s hotel, where he’d moved to on his own the night after the party, had a magnificent glimpse of the river, and the cityscape beyond. On other planets industry was king, but here on Oreison, powered by the galaxy and those beyond, manufactured culture reigned supreme. They built skyscrapers hundreds of floors high, great cathedrals devoted to the arts, museums and theaters, whole theme parks of every variety, clubs crafted entirely from precious rocks and gems, dens for the gloriously depraved. A visitor might lose himself for days. Chanyeol had already lost a week.  
  
Though he’d tried to avoid the typical social encounters, Chanyeol was unable to hide from his friends for too long. They showed up at his suite on the second day full of complaints from Chanyeol’s abandonment, but typical to them, they bore no grudge for long. They simply rolled with events as they happened with nary a thought. Chanyeol let them in; they weren’t surprised to see Jongdae resting against a wall, arms crossed with an amused expression.  
  
“You staying here too?” asked Sehun, like they’d known him forever.  
  
Jongdae answered. “Down the hall.”  
  
“Oh, neat. Hey, let’s say we all take a day trip the Giant’s Peak.”  
  
Chanyeol consented, but only because it seemed unlikely they’d run into Baekhyun two hours away on a mountain hike.  
  
He was not so lucky the second week when, on an ‘educational’ tour of the world’s capital building, they ran into Baekhyun there.  
  
“Oh no…” he moaned.  
  
They’d been there having lunch with Jongdae’s father. The two government employees Chanyeol had seen on the cruise through the Exotic Garden were in attendance being both annoyingly flattering and also deep wells of knowledge.  
  
“And this marble stair here was imported from the tenth moon of Aster in the Bell constellation nearly five hundred years ago—”  
  
But Chanyeol was not looking at the stair, and neither were Jongdae, Kyungsoo, or Sehun. The latter two snickered at the sight of Baekhyun on opposite balcony. He was dressed in white with gold trinkets accentuating his ears and neck, bangles on his wrists. A man wrapped around him, the two whispering happily in each other’s ears as they descended another stair.  
  
Chanyeol’s party met Baekhyun in the center of the foyer. Baekhyun startled when he saw them. His recovery only took a few seconds, and something dropped heavily in Chanyeol’s chest when he recognized that smart facade that always seemed to take over and lead the way every time Baekhyun addressed him. It was dripping with falsity, the most charming of acts.  
  
“Prince Chanyeol, what a surprise.” Not to ignore the others, he quickly introduced himself to Jongdae, then Kyungsoo, and finally, “Lord Sehun. Forgive me last week when I did not recognize you. But my! Do you all keep the most magnanimous company! May I introduce you to my friend? This is Mr. Zhang, and don’t be fooled by the term ‘mister’. Yixing here is quite one of the most powerful gentlemen in Oreison politics under the age of forty.” Delivered with a wink, he thrust his ‘friend’ forward to bow.  
  
Chanyeol counseled his expression to remain neutral, even as his heart started to pound. He felt sick with unease. Yixing was handsome and blond with wonderful crafted face and body. He was dressed like a politician, black bodysuit fitted tightly around his torso, waist, and legs, a half skirt fluttering down his hip, and crisp, shiny boots.  
  
Yixing finished his bow, and then he stood and his hand immediately fitted itself around Baekhyun’s waist like Baekhyun was made for that very purpose.  
  
“Friends of Baekhyun? It saddens me we haven’t had the privilege before. I am Yixing, as he said. Please ignore the mister, or any other address. Tedious things, titles like that.” Spoken with an air that bespoke a haughty attitude. His gaze lingered on Chanyeol’s one moment longer than it had on the others. Chanyeol flushed to respond.  
  
“It’s Chanyeol, _just Chanyeol_ , please,” he pleaded, smiling. He had a fleeting reminder of Baekhyun’s words a week ago begging Chanyeol to wait a month. _I’m afraid I’m booked for the time being._ Yixing, it seemed, was allowed to do more than just _look._  
  
“Chanyeol, then. Anyways, delightful to meet you all, but Baekhyun and I were… ahh, heading out now. Perhap we can meet over a meal later?” He looked to Baekhyun to confirm and, firmly ignoring Baekhyun’s frantic half shake no, said, “Tomorrow night? We are invited to that riverboat party, and it’s always so dull—politicians and the like—you all would, I’m sure, make an excellent addition to the gathering!”  
  
He would brook no argument. After a while, Baekhyun seemed to give up. They departed with a cordial goodbye from Yixing, mixed emotions from Baekhyun, and several too loud guffaws from Sehun when the two departed.  
  
Chanyeol flamed and felt even more ill. Awkwardly, Jongdae gave him a pat on the back.  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun stared at the slope of Yixing’s back, hours later. They had just had sex. Yixing was not afraid to call it that. Prior clients had found in Baekhyun’s arms something they referred to as love, but they were usually deluded. This was a business arrangement, no more, no less. In some ways Baekhyun preferred men like Yixing who were aware of this. It made things easier when their time together came to an end. For now, their ending had a few more weeks.  
  
“You should not have done that.” Baekhyun spoke softly, as Yixing stood up from the bed.  
  
Hours later, and Yixing still knew to what Baekhyun referred. He turned and smiled cheekily.  
  
“My apologies, if I have offended a future _lover_.”  
  
Baekhyun scoffed. “Right.” He stretched in their dirtied bed, striving for cleaner space.  
  
Yixing was already pulling on a semi clean change of clothes. He spoke matter-of-factly. “So this Chanyeol, this _prince_ of yours, is really not a good friend?”  
  
“We met once. It was awkward.”  
  
Yixing’s smile widened. “Do tell.”  
  
“No,” said Baekhyun playfully. He rolled over and picked himself off the bed. Then, as if this was conclusive enough, “He’s from Belenos.”  
  
Both of Yixing’s eyebrows raised. After a long moment, he whistled. “A relative of the Grand Prince, I assume.”  
  
“A grandson.”  
  
“One of many, then,” Yixing supplied. “The old man has at least twenty.”  
  
“I’m hardly surprised. A man as warmongering as that old geezer is surely lecherous as well.”  
  
“Only fours wives total, if I remember correctly. They did have a strange tendency to end up dead after a few years. The lucky ones were divorced. Wonder which one is the grandmother of your prince there.”  
  
“He’s not my prince,” said Baekhyun again angrily. “And I don’t wonder, because I really don’t care. Anyways, since you’ve been so hospitable to invite them to a party of which they have absolutely no need to attend, please don’t leave me alone around them, especially him.”  
  
“Any particular reason?”  
  
“I’m pretty sure he’s halfway to being in love with me.”  
  
“You know that?” Yixing laughed.  
  
“I can usually tell. It makes things…”  
  
“Awkward?”  
  
Baekhyun tilted his head. “I was going to say annoying.”  
  
“That works too. You have a lot of strong emotions about this though, I was going to say.”  
  
Baekhyun sighed, but he didn’t have an answer. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to run across Chanyeol ever again. And he really hadn’t anticipated Yixing making the whole thing more complicated when he did. Chanyeol was… perplexing at best; at worst he could be problematic. Here was a man obviously sporting a bleeding heart crush, and a Belenisian prince, grandson of a man who had his hands directly in the conquest of Baekhyun’s home planet. Chanyeol was likely also a spin addict. He’d certainly gotten high near the end of last week’s party, though he was at least entertaining more than being obnoxious, not that Baekhyun had gone anywhere near him again.  
  
Chanyeol… Baekhyun should not even be thinking so much about him right now. Perhaps the enigma was too great a temptation. He almost missed Yixing’s next words.  
  
“Actually, I thought you’d be more interested in the identity of his friend.”  
  
“His friend? Who? Lord Sehun? Or wait, what was the other man’s name… Kyungsoo?” The former was heir to an exalted lordship on Belenos, which made the connection between him and Chanyeol obvious. Kyungsoo’s family on the other hand were born and raised Oreison for at least ten generations.  
  
“I meant, Jongdae. He’s from Taranis.”  
  
Baekhyun hadn’t a clue where this was going. “And?”  
  
“His father is an ambassador. I had the pleasure of meeting him in a council session. Interesting fellow.”  
  
Baekhyun paused. There was something here Yixing wasn’t saying, something that should be important.  
  
“Taranis?” he mused. He knew the planet had counseled against continuing the war against Baekhyun’s people in the Crystal Galaxy, but that didn’t necessarily make them a friend to the cause. Unless, if what Yixing insinuated was true then, “This… ambassador…”  
  
“And his son…”  
  
“Father and son, then. They aren’t part of… but, they are, aren’t they?”  
  
Yixing nodded. “I didn’t invite them to the party tonight to amuse a bunch of rich, royal school kids, Baekhyun. I invited them because Kim Jongdae is an opportunity for you to continue, indeed expand, your search…”  
  
Baekhyun licked his lips and forced his heart to quit panicking from all that potential alone.  
  
“You… thank you, Yixing.”  
  
With that, the older gentleman walked around the bed. He tugged on Baekhyun’s robe, adjusting the shoulders and tightening the belt. Then he placed a kiss right on the tip of Baekhyun’s nose.  
  
“Let’s go put on a show tonight, now, hm?”  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
It seemed improbable at first, but the more Chanyeol thought about it, and the more he observed, it seemed Baekhyun—and his “sponsor” of the month Yixing—were purposefully taunting him.  
  
Chanyeol hadn’t wanted to come, but the invitation was already set. Kyungsoo and Sehun, and interestingly enough, Jongdae too, insisted they must attend. Chanyeol dressed up in his usual evening wear, the uniform that marked him as a ranking member of society. Even on Oreison—especially on Oreison—being a part of the first family of Belenos was quite the ticket to people's admiration. This just so happened to be a party where people recognized his name.  
  
“Oh, how lovely! I met your dear grandfather two spells ago at the Summit Meeting for Galactic Advancement. You know, you look nothing like him… perhaps you take after your father instead?”  
  
“Park Chanyeol, what an honor. I hear you’ve been in school at the Academy. My daughter went through there… oh, too long ago now to remember. You know back in _my_ day…”  
  
Personage after dignitary after politician after lord, once they began it never stopped. All the way Kyungsoo and Sehun hung back and laughed at his discomfort. All the way Jongdae stood by the wayside looking amused but rather helpless to stop it. All the way Baekhyun, no matter where Chanyeol turned, seemed always in viewpoint, Yixing by his side.  
  
Baekhyun looked exquisite tonight. His hair was still silver, highlights turning blue from the reflection of the riverboat lights. He was shirtless, but wore a long skirt, sea green and shiny; it clung from his waist to his ankles in various overlapping folds. Around his throat he wore a ribbon necklace from which dangled a gorgeous pearlescent gem. Glass beads fell from his right ear piercing. The matching set piece dangled from his right nipple. Yixing adorned his entire left side. They seemed to always be watching him, Baekhyun somewhat entertained, Yixing looking possessive.  
  
Chanyeol almost wished they would just go away. It rankled. Here he was, having no desire to attend, forced to anyways because of _their_ machinations, yet no matter where he turned they were right there forcing themselves upon him, all over each other but well out of Chanyeol’s reach.  
  
“You look upset,” said Jongdae after half an hour of despondent socializing.  
  
Chanyeol shrugged and minutely tugged his head towards the gloating pair. Jongdae followed looked over, though his expression left nothing to tell.  
  
“Ignore them,” he said with a measure of confidence Chanyeol could not share. “I mean, I’m not sure what you did exactly, but—”  
  
“Exactly!” he whispered harshly. “Exactly! I did _nothing. Nothing!_.”  
  
“Well evidently they don’t agree. I mean, you did disappear the other day with Baekhyun...”  
  
“If I said anything there that upset him, I don’t know why he would still be mad. He was the one who came to me to apologize in the first place. So, I said I liked him. That’s it. He wasn’t interested. Moving on.”  
  
“Are you though?” Jongdae asked.  
  
“Am I what? Moving on?”  
  
Jongdae nodded.  
  
Chanyeol gritted his teeth and answered, “There’s nothing to move on from. We had a few words. That’s it.”  
  
“Yeah, well Yixing is sure treating this like you tried to snag his toy so… somewhere something was lost in translation.”  
  
The truth was Chanyeol was trying not to be jealous. Baekhyun had nothing to do with him, and wanted nothing to do with him. It might have been the end of the story and Chanyeol would learn to live with it. What was a crushed love before he’d even had a chance anyways? He’d been disappointed before and lived, he would be fine from here on out.  
  
Except no matter what he did or where he moved, Baekhyun was still following him.  
  
Was the man so offended that Chanyeol had voiced a concern over his well-being? Was he mad Chanyeol had confessed? Or perhaps he was just so embarrassed that he was lashing out? Any way Chanyeol looked at it, it made no sense. And in the meantime he was stuck in the middle of the river on the most elegantly decked enclosed riverboat eating the finest delicacies and suffering conversation from some of the most puffed up gentry in the galaxy… Oh, his grandfather would be so proud.  
  
He moved eventually to a quieter corner of the deck. From down on the river, the city looked monstrous. It swayed high up into the clouds, into should be blackness except that of course Oreison never slept. Even past the highest loft apartments and business magnates’ offices, the sky shone as if by starlight. And some of the specks up there might even have been stars; most, Chanyeol knew, were satellites and stations. Almost as many people as lived on the surface lived or worked in the planet’s orbit. Theirs was surely a restless civilization. Chanyeol felt it acutely now, and it was suffocating.  
  
Jongdae found him not too long into Chanyeol’s musing. He sidled up with an apologetic gesture and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, however, someone yelled his name.  
  
“Kim Jongdae?”  
  
Both Jongdae and Chanyeol turned, and once again Chanyeol’s heart inflamed, furiously this time. Of course it would be Baekhyun.  
  
“Uhm, yes?” said Jongdae, blinking a couple times.  
  
Baekhyun wandered towards them unsteadily. He was a few glasses to tipsy, or maybe only faking it, because by the time he reached their corner he looked much more certain about why he was there.  
  
“Kim Jongdae,” he said again. “We met earlier but I was… well at the time… perhaps we could speak for a moment, privately?” Smiling at Chanyeol, Baekhyun took Jongdae’s arm and looped it around his own.  
  
A fuse finally tripped in Chanyeol’s emotional bank. “Making off without your sponsor, are we now?”  
  
Baekhyun’s hesitation lasted barely a second. His eyes narrowed, though his smile remained. He said nothing, however, and continued to drag Jongdae away.  
  
Perhaps he was being paranoid, but Chanyeol swore Baekhyun was doing this to him on purpose. Because it made no sense. Why be obvious that Chanyeol meant nothing to him for the duration of an entire evening, and then steal away his own friend?  
  
“Are you doing this intentionally?!” he bellowed. Without fully realizing it, Chanyeol had moved to follow.  
  
Baekhyun stopped in his tracks and peaked over his shoulder. Jongdae slipped free, looking worried.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“You heard me,” said Chanyeol, now standing before them.  
  
“I’m sorry,” said Baekhyun, “I fail to see how this is any of your business whether I want some private time with Jongdae—”  
  
“You don’t even know him. Why exactly do you have to come up and pry him away while I’m standing right here?”  
  
Baekhyun cocked his head to one side. “Oh, am I stealing your boyfriend or something?”  
  
Chanyeol scowled. “No! That’s not it. I mean…”  
  
Jongdae suddenly pitched in, “You know what, I’m out of here. Perhaps you two need to solve this on your own.”  
  
Chanyeol watched him go feeling something between relief and despair, if only because now he was left alone with Baekhyun, whose words echoed in Chanyeol’s mind; he felt like a fool.  
  
The hallway was deserted and somewhat darkened. Even so, Chanyeol cast a shadow which fell over the shorter man. Baekhyun did not speak. Instead he crossed his arms and leaned against a window. The silence stretched between them, and lingered.  
  
He was deflated. Finally though, Chanyeol spoke. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go.”  
  
“What? Giving up that quickly?” Rather than being mad, he seemed tired. “Look you just foiled part of my evening’s plans. If you don’t actually have something to say to me now then—”  
  
“I want to know why you’re hounding me like this.”  
  
Baekhyun scoffed. “I’m not hounding you.”  
  
“But you are. Look, I came to this party because your… your… well I don’t know what he is, but because _he_ insisted we come. It wasn’t because of you that I’m here. I don’t _want_ to be here at all.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So, ever since—!” Chanyeol groaned and bit back the rest of his words which even to his ears sounded like whining. Would it even make sense to accuse Baekhyun of trying to make him jealous? Whatever he’d been doing it had worked regardless, and now Chanyeol was left with nothing but an accusing tongue. “You know what, forget it. Go back to whatever you were doing. You’re right that it has nothing to do with me.”  
  
Chanyeol sighed. He should just walk away, but he couldn’t get it past his head. All night there was Baekhyun looking stunning, teasing, titillating. Even in shadow he looked stunning. And beautiful. And small. And… fragile?  
  
It wasn’t just his frame, but the way he wavered, suddenly uncertain, balancing on either of his feet. His lower lip was caught between his teeth; he glanced not directly at Chanyeol but closer to the collar buttons of his uniform. His arms which had hung limply by his sides pulled up to cover his bare chest.  
  
“Baekhyun?” Chanyeol asked. He distrusted this moodswing, but was still mightily unsure of what was going on.  
  
Again Baekhyun didn’t answer, yet he sighed. The boat continued to sway. From a distance, the din and clatter of the rest of the party guests wafted over. Someone even bellowed out Yixing’s name like a friendly greeting. Since Baekhyun seemed unconcerned by that, Chanyeol did too.  
  
“Want to go someplace else?” asked Baekhyun at long last.  
  
“What?” Chanyeol word echoed down the hallway.  
  
“There’s another deck. Come one.”  
  
He wanted to ask why, yet Chanyeol dared not. Dutifully he followed the other man down the corridor, past several turns, and finally up a flight of stairs, where there were significantly fewer guests. Downstairs it had been bright. Up here it was dim. They only stopped when Baekhyun located a small enclave near the back of the boat, shaped like a semi-circle and lined just with booths. It wasn’t a completely private spot, but there didn’t seem to be too many people concerned with the two strangers—although one a celebrity—walking by and sitting down.  
  
Baekhyun exhaled slowly as he relaxed into the cushion. Chanyeol sat opposite; he was not so content. Before they could talk, an Offborn in a waiter’s uniform appeared, smile professional and all too correct.  
  
“Gentlemen, can I get something for you? A cocktail, perhaps? Appetizer? A spin?”  
  
Chanyeol’s arm twitched at the offer, that sweet temptation to lighten the mood by literally relaxing his nerves, recodifying the brain to program sweeter thoughts.  
  
“We’re good, thank you,” said Baekhyun sharply.  
  
The server walked away.  
  
Baekhyun was staring, a cool measured look as if he’d known what Chanyeol was thinking. His armband was surprisingly bare. Chanyeol wondered that he hadn’t noticed that before, though perhaps he should have. By galactic law Offborns were not allowed to wear the wristband which every privileged native used to plug in and ingest information, among other things.  
  
Baekhyun looked darkly at the band, and Chanyeol flushed, wondering if Baekhyun suspected how close he had been to ask for a spin just to settle his mind.  
  
If he meant to push it, however, he didn’t act on it. Instead, Baekhyun leaned forward and asked, “Do you know why I do what I do, Chanyeol?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded somewhat certainly. “You are Offborn. And… a tribute slave.”  
  
“ _Was_ a tribute slave. I _was_ a tribute slave, Chanyeol, since I was taken around… oh, maybe five years old.”  
  
“I know. I saw you when you were nine.”  
  
That surprised Baekhyun. His sat back on the cushion and his eyebrows raised. “Did you?”  
  
“You were in a play on Belenos. I was eight. I went there with my brothers.”  
  
Baekhyun hummed. “I remember that play actually… That was a long time ago. _You_ have been thinking of me for a long time.” The accusation didn’t sound so threatening. Baekhyun seemed amused more than anything else.  
  
Still, Chanyeol hung his head and admitted it. “Yes.”  
  
Baekhyun smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Anyways you answered part of the question, but not really why, so I’ll lay it all out for you. I’m a whore, Chanyeol. You are aware of this. A high class whore and a socialite, as if this universe could even handle the anomaly. I perform when I’m asked to, acting, singing, modeling, fashion shows, parties, you name it. I take sponsors to support my career and most of the time we pretend that it’s just fling with a time expiration stamp with monetary benefits going my way, and prestige going the other. The ideal trophy boyfriend, but of course, what I still am is a whore.”  
  
The words stinging in Chanyeol’s ear, he let him go on.  
  
“What you don’t know is why. In particular, _why I still am_.” Baekhyun sat up again and shifted around. The skirt which had bunched up around his ankles shook loose again. Chanyeol became bent on watching the colors of the fabric as they shone in the fractured light from outside.  
  
“Twenty years ago my planet lost the battle for Galactic Independence. We were absorbed, along with the entire galaxy into your galaxy’s domain. Comparatively speaking, it wasn’t so bad as other planets. All the major cities were leveled, and the entire axis was shifted just enough to bring about major famine, frosts, and floods. But unlike other planets, ours wasn’t disintegrated into rubble. It remained, and it still remains…  
  
“My parents weren’t even part of the resistance. They never fought in the war. They and tens of thousands of others hid in tunnels under the tallest mountain range and only emerged when it was over. For their troubles and their lack of resistance, they were immediately enslaved. I suppose you could say I was born under captivity. Me, and five other siblings, four brothers and a sister, all older than me except for my sister. When I was seven all of us were taken away. Three died before we could even be sold. Then I, one brother, and a sister, were sold as tribute slaves.  
  
“You can likely guess at the rest of my story, half of it at the very least. I was one of the lucky ones, _the luckiest._ I got attached to a Belenesian playwright who raised me alongside his own son. Between the two of them they taught me everything I know, how to act, how to dress, how to pretend I don’t come from the Crystal Galaxy, or at least like my background doesn’t matter. No one’s under any illusions that I’m not Offborn, and a slave, but I was fortunate. Very fortunate. By the time I was fifteen I had paid my own tribute debt and acquired freedom. Or, as much freedom as an Offborn can actually have. But it’s given me a unique opportunity not just to continue my own pathetic existence, but to strive for something more…  
  
“Two years ago, after endless patience, making the right connections, the right inquiries, and enough money to fuel a small war all of its own, I found my brother. He was in a mining camp on the Black Stone asteroid belt. I saved his life and brought him home. I’m still looking for my sister.  
  
“Chanyeol, no other occupation can bring in the kind of money and relationships that I need to continue the search. Not for an Offborn like me. That’s why I sell myself. That’s why I have my ‘adopted’ brother acting as my handler. I bring in the money, and the people I ingratiate, and we spend my hard-earned money toiling on the arms of rich fucks (literally) diving past all the red tape seeking the fate of one measly slave girl who was sold over a decade ago. So pardon me, if I flirt and hover around anyone I see as useful, but I have way more on my plate, Chanyeol, than really caring about what you like, or who like, even if that person is actually me.”  
  
His monologue done, voice raised to high, scratchy whisper, Baekhyun exhaled and sunk back into the cushioned seat. He crossed his arms and delivered a challenging glare, waiting for Chanyeol to respond.  
  
Only he couldn’t. How exactly was a person like Chanyeol expected to respond to someone’s life story, especially one _like that._ He was floored, flabbergasted, and also feeling incredibly dumb. Up till now Chanyeol’s only life problems included passing all his exams and dealing with the pressure of his family’s political expectations. His eldest brother was a prick, his father had a complex from marrying into such an exclusive lineage of planetary rulers, Chanyeol’s grandfather was the patriarch of patriarchs and thus inspired a lot of groveling. On the social side of things, he had two annoying friends, which was _terrible_ , and a mild addiction to europhoria-rendering nerve treatments which frequently hindered his ability to associate with real people in a real world environment.  
  
What he didn’t have was a legacy of slavery and loss. All his siblings were alive, and his career—once he chose one of a dozen possible trajectories—was all but guaranteed. His home world was one of the most privileged, affluent, and upwards moving planets in all the ten known and reachable galaxies.  
  
In fact, by this logic, Chanyeol sounded exactly like the kind of person Baekhyun would _want_ to know.  
  
“Use me,” he squeaked, voice cracking from nerves.  
  
“What?” Baekhyun squirmed in his seat.  
  
“Use me,” Chanyeol repeated. “I can help you. I _want_ to help you. I won’t even demand anything of you, but I have money, and family, the kind of connections that could be useful.”  
  
Baekhyun observed him carefully for a long moment. “You’re serious.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
Baekhyun scoffed, but then he leaned forward. “If you mean it, then you have to be sure.”  
  
“W-What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, that the channels I need pursued are dangerous, and a lot of the times they’re also illegal. One wrong word from you, and my life is forfeit—”  
  
“I would never!” Chanyeol protested.  
  
Baekhyun clicked his tongue. “You say that now.”  
  
“But, I mean it.”  
  
“Even if you do,” he said, and Chanyeol struggled with not insisting that again, “were you to _ever_ slip, or your family found out, it wouldn’t matter how much you claimed to like me.”  
  
“Can you at least admit that I like you enough to try, and to keep you safe to the best of my abilities?”  
  
“You’re nineteen.”  
  
“I’m quite capable.”  
  
“You’re still in school.”  
  
“I’m almost done.”  
  
“And then you’ll do what? Specialize in intergalactic investigation?”  
  
“I could do whatever I want. I’m a prince.” Chanyeol allowed himself a small smile. Baekhyun actually returned it.  
  
“Well at least we’ve cleared up that matter. That brings us to something else.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I have a special hatred in my heart for the Grand Prince of Belenos, _your grandfather._ Can you live with that?”  
  
“As long as you’re aware that I am neither responsible for nor culpable in my grandfather’s schemes. He’s done a lot of reprehensible things during his time on the dais that I can’t and will not deny.”  
  
“You’ve really thought this part through,” said Baekhyun, uncrossing his arms and sitting forward once more. In the space between them, Chanyeol swore he felt an energy building, a kind of rapport which both scared and excited him.  
  
“One last thing.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Baekhyun scooted forward, Chanyeol tried not to flinch when he felt one of Baekhyun’s hand skirting across his knee.  
  
“I think you want to help me for purely selfish reasons, Chanyeol.”  
  
Did he? “I-I do?”  
  
“You’ve already said it. You like me. Even knowing what I do, you like me.”  
  
Baekhyun moved even closer. His bottom barely remained on the seat cushion, his weight had shifted so far forward that their knees knocked together. Chanyeol shivered as the hand on his knee drifted up his leg to his thigh. It might as yet be construed as an innocent, incidental movement. The expression on Baekhyun’s face, however…  
  
His eyes had darkened, and his lashes fluttered. Chanyeol held his breath as his lips drew closer and closer.  
  
“I like you?” said Chanyeol shakily, questioning only the response Baekhyun seemed soon to give.  
  
“Chanyeol, I think you’re doing this because you hope I’ll come to like you back.”  
  
Chanyeol’s heart thudded violently in his chest, and it refused to stop. He gulped and stammered, but did not speak. His eyes were glued to Baekhyun’s, darting only down to his lips, then back again.  
  
“I’m going to kiss you,” Baekhyun whispered slowly, “and you’re going to like it.” Chanyeol’s breath hitched as his heart skipped another beat. “And afterwards you’re going to miss my lips and wish you had me back, but it’s practice, Chanyeol, only practice. Because no matter how much you help me, or how much you like me, I can never be yours. Can you handle that?”  
  
With a sinking feeling, a heartache already growing, Chanyeol guessed what his answer might be: no, most definitely not, not as he already suspected that his heart was gone. He would fall in love with Baekhyun. If Chanyeol knew anything, he knew that.  
  
“Yes.” He closed his eyes as Baekhyun’s breath warmed his face.  
  
“You’re sure?”  
  
“I can handle it.”  
  
He could not.  
  
Then Baekhyun kissed him.  
  
Their lips met, closed and warm, soft and delicate, like the hand Baekhyun placed upon Chanyeol’s jawbone, and stroked.  
  
It was silent. All ambience faded away, so gently overpowered by the sound of Baekhyun’s breathing, by the thumping of Chanyeol’s chest. He tilted his head and redoubled his efforts, lips moving silkily against the other’s. Baekhyun’s other hand reached for his shoulder, then danced upwards until it found Chanyeol’s neck. Baekhyun’s body followed soon after.  
  
Mere days ago Chanyeol could not have imagined this. Dreamt of it, surely, but he never expected it to really happen. To have Baekhyun in his lap, willingly there, open-mouthed and softly moaning. His skin under Chanyeol’s hands was chilled, but it warmed up easily. Chanyeol’s fingers danced across his back, pulling him close, tight, as their kiss became heated.  
  
“Baekhyun,” he groaned, letting him loose for one second.  
  
It was a second too long.  
  
Baekhyun pulled back abruptly and stood up from Chanyeol’s lap. Chanyeol let him go, arms loosening and falling slack, though every drive in his body begged him to hold on tight.  
  
“There,” said Baekhyun. His chin raised high and adamant. “Tell me again you can handle it.”  
  
Chanyeol took a deep breath, and lied. “I can handle it.”  
  
He could not.  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun marched away as quickly as he could without actually running. His skin tingled, his heart refused to still. Knowing he was out of Chanyeol’s sight finally, he practically tripped down the stairs and onto the first floor land of the partiers.  
  
Nothing had changed. The same groups of socialites, politicians, officers, spouses, and miscellaneous guests—including three young men of upstanding birth—mingled amongst each other, never minding that Baekhyun had disappeared.  
  
He caught sight of Yixing in the corner and smiled. His sponsor beamed back and waved, and then turned to continue another conversation. Baekhyun leveled his gaze, cooled his heart, and started meandering through the crowds to reach him.  
  
His handler got to him first.  
  
“Where did you go,” he hissed. “I thought you were going after Jongdae, but he’s still down here. You _know_ that he and his father trade in the underground freedom roads. That could be important—”  
  
“I got sidetracked. Anyways, I found another potential source of information.”  
  
“You mean Chanyeol? You can’t be serious. Does he want to be your sponsor?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
The man snorted. “You’re still contracted to Yixing.”  
  
“For a while. Besides, this is different.”  
  
“Different how?”  
  
It was different because Chanyeol liked him, really _liked_ him. And maybe Baekhyun…  
  
“Yifan, have you done something that you knew was a mistake. Like, even knowing in advance what the road will be like and you still go down it?”  
  
His handler, his friend, his adopted brother sighed. “Yes. I have. I did that the day I let you talk me into doing all this for you. Baekhyun, what exactly have you gotten yourself into now?”  
  
“I don’t know, Yifan, I really don’t know.”  
  
  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol stared at the flickering overhead light, eyes dazed, partially from the blinding luminescence, partially from having been spun up just six hours ago. It was ‘spring’ vacation at the Academy, a tribute to some ancient custom that was still observed planetside but of course there was nothing springlike about the stale atmosphere of a pseudo military base whose primary purpose was educating young somebodies into the elite of the elite.  
  
Elsewhere in the dorm he could hear Sehun and Kyungsoo talking. They were making plans on how to occupy their free time and typically Chanyeol would be right alongside them.  
  
Not this time though. Chanyeol was only biding the hours before he could take a ship to the surface, and no he wasn’t going home either.  
  
He was meeting Baekhyun. He was meeting a wealthy socialite he’d last seen six months ago on a tiny riverboat on Oreison, here now for the express purpose of visiting the grand planet of Belenos.  
  
Chanyeol snorted at nothing in particular. Who was he even kidding. He was meeting a first rate whore on a rescue mission to save his sister, and on paper at least that made Chanyeol sound like a goddamned hero. Chanyeol the Great, Chanyeol the Savior, Prince Chanyeol on a proverbial white horse all because he’d made inquiries of an old family servant and gotten one, lucky hit.  
  
He knew where Baekhyun’s sister was, relatively speaking. On file in his head he knew the hemisphere, the district, the complex where she’d last been seen five years ago and chances were she’d never left.  
  
He was going to direct Baekhyun, the man Chanyeol had literally fallen for, on the most selfless selfish mission of all time.  
  
Far cry from the man he was being now. Head a mess, body aching, school mates in the other room talking behind his back about their screw up friend laying on his bed talking to a blinking light.  
  
“Fuck, I feel like crap.”  
  
He rubbed his eyelids until they watered, sniffed the odors on his body and decided he needed to bathe.  
  
If only he could prepare to meet Baekhyun as the suave prince he pretended to be, without doping his brain. Anxiety coursed through his veins, only partially diluted. Hopefully it would be enough to get him through the next few days.  
  
Several hours later, he checked himself out in the mirror, school uniform removed in favor of his family colors. He nodded.  
  
“Good enough,” he said gruffly.  
  
Kyungsoo stood in the doorway watching him. “Good enough for what?” He looked extremely judgmental right now. “I heard you were ditching us this week and going your own way but why do you have that look about you that normal dudes have when they’re going on a date?”  
  
Chanyeol coughed and didn’t answer. Apparently that was all it took.  
  
“Wait, you _are_ meeting someone.” Kyungsoo whistled. “Fancy that.”  
  
“Why, what’s wrong with that?” Chanyeol avoided his gaze and recuffed his sleeves instead. Out of the corner of his eye he could see still his friend.  
  
Kyungsoo grinned and put his arm up against the wall to support himself. His grin slanted, hair out of sorts, casual as he could be but with an aura he usually reserved for serious conversations, he said, “Chanyeol, you’re not exactly a people person.”  
  
“I’m not?”  
  
“Your pretend innocence on this topic is stunningly bad,” he deadpanned. Then with a sigh he continued. “No, you’re not a people person. In fact I sometimes wonder if you’re even a ‘friend’ person, and if you don’t more or less hang around us because you feel like you’re supposed to. Hey, I take no offense. Don’t mind my feelings. Sehun’s got none to begin with, so see, you’re perfect for us. On the other hand, I have a feeling I know who you’re going down there to meet and all I can say is… Tsk tsk, Chanyeol. Have fun with the heartache and come find us when you’re done.”  
  
Chanyeol stared at him. “That was strangely heartwarming, thanks.”  
  
“What friends are for. P.S. Your eyes still look bloodshot, maybe lay off the triple spins while you’re out there, yeah?”  
  
Chanyeol actually hugged him goodbye.  
  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
The only hitch Chanyeol wasn’t expecting happened right the next day.  
  
He was due to meet Baekhyun in the evening at the Grand Belenos Resort, which was _the_ finest, most upstanding pavilion in all the planet probably, excepting private residences. Everyone who was anyone stayed there when passing through the city and Baekhyun, it seemed, was not to be excluded from this. Chanyeol had checked and rechecked his dress clothes, every button, every cuff, messing with his hair every two seconds and checking the mirror like the lovestruck schoolboy he probably was.  
  
He’d arrived ten hours early, introduced himself to the concierge and been immediately seated in the cafe adjacent the lobby with the most ingratiating train of servants to tend to his needs. For a while he just sipped tea and snacked on pastries. Finally he ordered a real meal. As people buzzed around him—their nerves set delightedly on edge because _this_ was the grandson of the Grand Prince of Belenos!—he tuned them out. Voices chimed from other parts of the lobby, none could grab his attention. Not even the first high tingle of laughter from a young female close at hand managed to turn his head. Until he heard the responding echo of a male voice which had haunted his dreams for months and perhaps years.  
  
Baekhyun strode across the rich marbled floor of the hotel entryway, a host of staff following with a veritable mountain of luggage. He was dressed simply in white silk pants and a cascading navy blue coat run through with silver embroidering, and he looked _incredible_. His wore little makeup and no jewels, barely a silver stud in each of his ears, and his hair was black as night, brightly reflective in the light of the day. He looked so… natural, and so beautiful wrapped in that aura, that Chanyeol could almost cry. He stood up, anxious to meet him, to speak to him again, to tell Baekhyun how happy he was to finally see him again!  
  
Only there was a woman on his arm. Petite and gorgeous with long braided hair and a white billowy gown, the sight of Baekhyun’s smile directed at her was enough to send Chanyeol’s heart melting through his ribcage and tumbling to the floor.  
  
“Excuse me, sir? Prince Chanyeol?” Like the buzzing of an errant fly, the youngest bellhop of the Grand Belenos Resort flitted uselessly at Chanyeol’s elbow. “The err, gentleman you’ve been waiting for has arrived.”  
  
Chanyeol spared half a second to glare at the boy who was politely indicating Baekhyun’s stride across the floor.  
  
“Thank, you,” he stuttered, because now Baekhyun had seen him, and so had the woman.  
  
Unflustered as always, Baekhyun went right to him. His smile was unchanged. Indeed he merely approached like they were longtime friends.  
  
“Chanyeol! You’re here! I fancied, man of your class, you wouldn’t be on time or even early but fashionably late. Chanyeol, this is Hyeran. You probably know her mother. She’s the First General of the Greater Red Nebula, and surrounding sectors. Don’t let that intimidate you though, Hyeran here has absolutely no mind for military… things. Just like me!”  
  
Then he hugged Chanyeol, as though he’d just been introducing a girlfriend to a best friend. Body on autopilot, Chanyeol hugged him back. His arms reaching all the way around Baekhyun’s tiny frame. Even the clothes could not disguise how thin he truly was. Like he needed a year’s worth of good meals and a lifetime break of making himself look attractive for other people.  
  
“You look nice,” he said gruffly.  
  
Baekhyun continued to smile. There was a pause where he didn’t say anything back, but his eyes shifted almost imperceptibly towards his current sponsor, as if begging Chanyeol to not make this more awkward than it already was.  
  
“And uhm, Ms. Hyeran, right. Your mother is General Ji, of course I’ve heard of her before. Uhm.”  
  
She smiled delightfully and held out her hand. If anything seemed amiss she was either too naive to pick it up or else impeccably trained to not mention it. Going by her pedigree, Chanyeol suspected it was the latter.  
  
“Call me Hyeran, please. And he said your name was Chanyeol, so I take it to mean your grandfather is… wow, Baekhyun, you certainly do have friends in high places! Look at all these people just popping up around you, a prince here… probably a few princesses over there…”  
  
Baekhyun squeezed her shoulder and laughed. “That can’t be jealousy now, Hyeran, truly? We all know you are the most beautiful princess here right now.”  
  
It was clearly not jealousy, but an epic battle of flattery and response. Chanyeol felt very third-wheeled. In the intervening months since he last saw Baekhyun face to face, they had spoken to each other only once by long communication. He’d only said what, where, and when. There had been no discussion of Baekhyun being ‘obliged’ to Chanyeol in any other way.  
  
He hadn’t asked how Baekhyun was going to get all the way to this part of the galaxy. His methods were his own, and Hyeran right now was it.  
  
Chanyeol cleared his throat and tried to act natural. It seemed to work. Unfortunately all that he accomplished was that Baekhyun and Hyeran kept chatting away, continuing a conversation they’d apparently started long ago and none of it involved Chanyeol.  
  
“Catch you later, Chanyeol, okay? This evening, yeah?” said Baekhyun without waiting for an answer.  
  
Chanyeol waved and the two of them said goodbye. As they turned to go, their entourage of luggage carriers at their feet, Chanyeol saw that the back of Hyeran’s gown was almost see through. That, and Baekhyun’s arm seemed awfully intimate.  
  
  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time Baekhyun got around to seeing Chanyeol again, it was two hours past the time they’d set up. Baekhyun had forgotten how long it took to get settled in to a newer establishment, plus there were Hyeran’s things to unpack and fawn over while he played the part of the devoted lover. He sighed and rubbed a hand through his bangs. He was dead exhausted, and irritable. The meal he’d had earlier with Hyeran hadn’t settled well in his stomach, probably due to the Belenisian seasoning, a spice and fragrance which even when he was younger hadn’t gone well with his digestion.  
  
He belched, splashed some water on his face, and declared himself ready enough. For the first time ever, Yifan had not accompanied him. On one hand he felt more free, on the other a lot more lost. And that wasn’t even referring to the vast hallways of the resort with its millions of corners, curves, dead ends, rooms and plazas. The place was dripping with wealth, the likes of which only general’s daughters could afford. And princes of course.  
  
Because Chanyeol was here. They’d seen each other earlier. They had talked, heavens above! They’d talked! Baekhyun had forgotten how lovely was that voice, so deep and unsure.  
  
He hoped his little farce earlier had been enough to remind Chanyeol that there was _nothing_ between them.  
  
Baekhyun found the right door. Then he knocked. His nerves danced about while he waited, he coughed a couple times. But when the door finally opened to reveal Chanyeol’s impressive silhouette, Baekhyun was the picture of professionalism.  
  
“Okay, let’s discuss.”  
  
There were logistics to work out, registries to sort, people to schmooze, an entire plan of action for Baekhyun to dive into and only Chanyeol had enough political grease to pave the way. Even Baekhyun had to hand it to him; this young, schoolboy prince had come prepared. In another setting he might have fit the profile of a genuine philanthropist, the likes of which Jongdae’s entire family imbued.  
  
But of course they both knew only too well why Chanyeol was doing this. On the surface they were two colleagues searching out the location of a lost female tribute slave. Baekhyun pretended she wasn’t his own baby sister, Chanyeol pretended he wasn’t completely interested in helping Baekhyun in any way he could. Yet beyond their base dialogue and controlled tone, the signs were there. Baekhyun drummed his knuckles anxiously on the desktop beside Chanyeol’s processor, watching the other man typing furiously into the consul.  
  
“Doesn’t that bother you?” he asked once, indicating the plug-in that connected Chanyeol’s wristband to the computer.  
  
“This? I’m used to it.”  
  
Chanyeol appeared focus, but Baekhyun couldn’t miss the way their eyes never quite met for long.  
  
“You haven’t asked me about her,” said Baekhyun, just to get a reaction.  
  
Chanyeol actually had none. “Oh? Your current sponsor? She was very pretty.” His lips twitched so minutely Baekhyun almost missed it. “Powerful family too. Were you not able to ply her for help this time?”  
  
“Who said every sponsor I take is just for business?” Baekhyun taunted back.  
  
Chanyeol let that one go, which Baekhyun found impressive. Instead, he directed Baekhyun’s attention to another detail in the puzzle of his missing sister’s whereabouts.  
  
“Pretty sure we will find her within the estates of the Lord High Regent of the Eastern Peninsula, that’s Belenese for the most pompous man on the planet and maybe the whole galaxy, but the one thing he’s _not_ known as is a tyrant. Baekhyun, if your sister was sold to him as I truly suspect she was, then she won’t have been mistreated.”  
  
“Kind words for a man who still keeps the modern equivalent of a harem,” scoffed Baekhyun, even as he breathed a small sigh of relief.  
  
He looked up, realizing Chanyeol was no longer looking down at his consul but in Baekhyun’s general direction.  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
Chanyeol cleared his throat and looked down.  
  
“What?” Baekhyun asked again.  
  
“It’s nothing.”  
  
“You were going to say something, so it can’t be nothing.”  
  
“No,” Chanyeol clarified. “I was going to ask something but it would probably be inappropriate.”  
  
“Ask it.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Chanyeol, you already know what I do for a living, what exactly could be more inappropriate than that?”  
  
It took a few moments for Chanyeol to put his thoughts into words, but when he did he did so hesitantly, voice lowered as if he truly feared offending. “I was just curious… you said you were sold to a playwright. From what I know about the tribute slave market, that’s a rare occurrence.”  
  
“I told you I was lucky.”  
  
“Too lucky, then,” said Chanyeol. “Someone like you though… I mean, even playwrights buy slaves to… well…” He stopped. “I mean, did that ever happen to you? Before you made the decision later to…”  
  
Chanyeol’s hesitancy was almost cute. “You mean was I bought for some other purpose than to run around backstage delivering scripts and acting out minor roles?”  
  
Chanyeol nodded, worry clouding his brow. Baekhyun wanted to reach over and smooth it out. The best he could do, however, was say, “No, Chanyeol. I befriended the playwright’s son before anything like that could happen. By the time my guardian got around to remembering he’d bought me, he could not in his mind separate me from his own child. Like I said, I was lucky. That boy, Yifan, was my very first savior. Ironic, don’t you think, that he now he plays such an ugly role in life.”  
  
“I didn’t see him come in with you earlier.”  
  
“No, I left him behind.”  
  
“How come?”  
  
Baekhyun smiled. “Because this trip was only half for business, and the other half for… _this_ business. I figured I could handle myself for a while.”  
  
They talked no more about it, Chanyeol delivering another nod of understanding, one choked full of emotions which Baekhyun was in no position to soothe. He didn’t lie. He’d been dead lucky growing up the way he had, but it was almost _because_ of his childhood successes that he’d been able to make these later in life decisions. Decisions which had put him down the path he stood on now. Most Offborns who sold their bodies did not live as glamorously as Baekhyun did.  
  
But there was one thing he hadn’t been so forthcoming about it. He almost dared Chanyeol to ask it, knew it had to be in his mind: If Baekhyun succeeded in rescuing his sister, would that mean his purpose for living this way was over?  
  
“We’ve got a lot to do this week,” said Chanyeol at the end of the night. “I’ll be making some inquiries myself in the next few days. So… stay in touch, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah… Okay. Goodnight, Chanyeol.”  
  
“Goodnight… Baekhyun.”  
  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
Chanyeol had to admit, he stayed busy all week looking for the girl, and searching for a way to get her out, only because the alternative was thinking too much about her brother.  
  
Baekhyun was everything Chanyeol craved now. Smart and beautiful, so much brass, so much confidence in his mission and how he went about it. It was agony to watch. For the remainder of the week he was still technically contracted to Hyeran, so every time Chanyeol saw Baekhyun incidentally around the resort, he was with _her_.  
  
And yes, they did look great together. With Baekhyun’s slim physique next to Hyeran’s petite beauty, they drew eyes wherever they went, over dinner in the main dining hall, out by the pool, coming and going from whatever daily excursions they went on sightseeing with all the other wealthy tourists. And they were always laughing with each other, always touching. Even when he wasn’t around Chanyeol could hear it, envision it.  
  
It rankled. Which is why midweek when he’d just about had enough but was also when he accepted a call on the long com.  
  
Alone in his room, halfway undressed because he was just too lazy to bother—he wasn’t meeting with Baekhyun tonight—the notification on his wristband flashed green.  
  
“Jongdae?” he answered, genuinely surprised.  
  
“Hey, hey, Chanyeol! Heard you were back on your home planet this week. How’s it going?”  
  
He and Chanyeol hadn’t spoken more than a handful of times since they’d met on Oreison. With his studies and Jongdae’s home world obligations, Chanyeol had assumed their short-lived friendship on the central planet of the universe would remain just that. Yet Jongdae had not let it go and for that, Chanyeol was quietly grateful.  
  
“Going fine.” He hesitated to say it, guessing Jongdae would correctly assume something, but, “I’m here with Baekhyun. Kind of.”  
  
“Chanyeol, I know all about Baekhyun and his mission.”  
  
Well that shocked Chanyeol, though he probably should have guessed it before now.  
  
“You do.”  
  
“Yup. Perhaps you’ve figured out by now what my father engages in when he’s not doing ambassadorial work. We _find_ people. We just hadn’t been able to find her. I’ll admit when I heard about Baekhyun’s story after we met on Oreison I did ask my father to look into it. Pulled up nothing. I’m relieved to hear _you_ did. At least I assume you did, else why would you be on your homeworld right now with Baekhyun and not with off with your two cronies wasting your life and getting drunk.”  
  
Chanyeol chuckled, thankful at least that he had a friend, however far away, to talk to through the night.  


 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
At the end of the week, Chanyeol’s role was done.  
  
“Not to breeze through the essentials,” he told Baekhyun, “but here’s how you need to approach it.” He handed Baekhyun a packet and a plug in of all his research, including entry codes and a writ of passage that would get Baekhyun into the estate and talking to the right people. If all went well he may even be able to walk out with a female tribute slave, no questions asked. It was magical really, how the seal of the Grand Prince of Belenos could literally open all doors.  
  
“So this is really it,” said Baekhyun. For a few seconds he sat there in stunned silence. After all these years of searching, it was about to come to an end.  
  
“Think so,” said Chanyeol.  
  
Baekhyun sighed in wonder, already steeling himself for what would come, because it wouldn't be Chanyeol’s job to do the last stretch of work. That was all on Baekhyun. And though Chanyeol might have to deal with the consequences of it come some future date, tomorrow at least he’d leave the rescuing to Baekhyun, for tomorrow Chanyeol went back to school.  
  
This may very well be the last time they met.  
  
“So this is it,” he repeated slowly.  
  
Chanyeol hummed.  
  
Baekhyun’s words had two meanings, and both of them knew it.  
  
“So,” said Chanyeol.  
  
“So.”  
  
Part of their arrangement, at least for Baekhyun’s typical engagement-type, was unconventional.  
  
_“Use me,”_ that’s what Chanyeol had said back on Oreison.  
  
Usually, the way Baekhyun _used_ people was to lend his body for sex and status. In return he received payment in monetary donations and connections. And oh, over the years he had done this countless times, sometimes leaving behind a string of broken hearts, more often just clients with unfulfilled wishes and a desire for re-engagement. Baekhyun never contracted the same person twice. It was his way of protecting himself. It was in the contract, bold and clear. Sometimes he met people again but never in the same way. He would smile and banter like old friends might do, chat and catch up on the times, but never anything more.  
  
The fact that he was now seeing Chanyeol twice, if not like all the others, was already a strain on Baekhyun’s no-repeat policy. And he’d only kissed Chanyeol once.  
  
The fact he wished to do so again was telling, like a warning sign in even bolder letters: Baekhyun, let this one go.  
  
“This is weird for me, I’m just going to come out and say it.”  
  
They were back in Chanyeol’s room. All around them, Chanyeol’s luggage was in a half-packed state of readiness for the return shuttle flight to the Academy. Chanyeol looked tired, his eyes were haggard, his legs visibly twitched. Baekhyun suspected he had been going without a spin for at least the entire week.  
  
“Say what?”  
  
Baekhyun forced himself to relax. He reclined in his chair and adopted a casual aura. “That tonight we are technically over, and so usually I would be accepting payment now for services rendered.”  
  
Chanyeol winced.  
  
Baekhyun went on. “So the fact that this is somewhat reversed has me at a loss. You are the one who has given payment, yet I have given nothing.”  
  
“Look, Baekhyun, we agreed that you wouldn’t—”  
  
“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. I’m just saying, I would like to give you something. I got paid yesterday. Hyeran, as you know, booked a single flight back to the Greater Red Nebulae this morning.”  
  
Chanyeol visibly balked. “I don’t want her money!”  
  
“Calm down! Hey, now. You think I don’t know you enough?”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means, I already know you’re totally loaded. Also you’re way too noble to accept such a typical fee. I _also_ know that if I offered myself, you’d snub your nose and reject me outright because, let’s face it, we both know that you’re a little obsessed with me and people who genuinely like another person will rarely act so low. So have you any other ideas?”  
  
Was he being too cruel? Baekhyun probably thought so, but this was the only way he knew how to deal with the situation.  
  
He let that sink in, watching guiltily as Chanyeol’s face turned red, probably from fury. Surprisingly though, the response was not as he expected.  
  
It took a moment but Chanyeol composed himself. His cheeks resumed their normal coloring. He inhaled once, slowly, then let it all out, chewed his lower lip then let it go. With great emphasis he spoke. “You know you don’t have to act this way in front of me.”  
  
“Huh?” Baekhyun sat up a little straighter.  
  
“Your little speech here is unnecessary. I don’t want anything from you, Baekhyun, I thought we discussed that back on Oreison, and even after.”  
  
Baekhyun huffed. “Okay, I know I said that but, but it really doesn’t sit well with me. I have to return something. A favor, at least. Anything.”  
  
He sat forward, observing Chanyeol closely. This was a man, a would-be-powerful man, someday perhaps. In the meantime he was just a boy, on break for holiday and giving Baekhyun the one thing Baekhyun wanted most, in return for nothing. Inconceivable. He had to want something.  
  
_Other than me,_ he didn’t have to say, “Chanyeol, what do you want?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Time.  
  
That was all Chanyeol wanted.  


 

One year later they met as promised. They had dinner under the veranda of a double sunset, on a planet halfway across the galaxy but Baekhyun was more beautiful than that. He was free, and his sister was free, yet he wore the costume of his profession and Chanyeol was too noble to mention it still. 

Two years later they met at a ball. They brought their own dates but they drank together, as Baekhyun had promised, one year and a day removed from the date last year, two years from the night when Baekhyun asked "what do you want" and Chanyeol told him what. He didn't bother explaining that his date was his cousin who was married with children, but Baekhyun looked just as splendid with a young man on his arm, one he excused only for but a short duration.

Three years later exactly they met Jongdae, now free from an apprentice with his father but in the same line of work. He and Baekhyun chatted and caught up while Chanyeol watched with halfway jealous eyes. But as the evening drew to a close he caught a smile from his desire's face, a genuine smile, one of curiosity and fondness if not much more.

Four years later, dinner again and this time Baekhyun had much to share. He was in between clients, foul-mouthed yet chipper about each of them, but as he spoke he played with Chanyeol's fingers across the table as a lover might.

They didn't make it for their five year date. It was Chanyeol's fault as he was taken up with matters of governance on behalf of his father's twelve states on their homeworld of Belenos. Baekhyun, when they spoke through the long comm, did not seem at all put out. They made plans for a year in advance, and Chanyeol's heart broke just a little more. 

At six and seven years nothing especially happened. Chanyeol was getting older, Baekhyun as well, and if he'd stopped any in his profession he wouldn't say, except that Chanyeol knew his name to be even more famous across even farther star systems. With muted affection they greeted and departed, and Chanyeol had the distinct impression that Baekhyun found his obligated 'dates' with Chanyeol to be an inconvenience of the highest matter. 

He almost canceled on the eighth year. He was deep into work as the Lead Council for Belenisian Trade in a far-spanned galaxy, the neighbor to Baekhyun's homeworld. He hadn't counted that Baekhyun would actually have returned home. They met, to Baekhyun's insistence, at the residence of Baekhyun's friend, a man Chanyeol recognized from the very first time he'd seen Baekhyun in the shadow of the stolen temple on Oreison where everything began. His name was Luhan, and he was a tribute slave. Like Baekhyun they had entered the same line of work, though where Luhan had long retired, Baekhyun was still available to whoever called and took his fancy. Chanyeol sighed privately, glum and generally inconsolable over the prospects of Baekhyun retiring and becoming his and his alone. 

"You know, I'm started to like these dates, Chanyeol," said Baekhyun at their ninth year reunion. He sipped a fancy glass of wine which Chanyeol knew to be practically priceless, frowned, then poured it over the side of the balcony. It splattered low beneath them but Chanyeol didn't wince. His heart was racing; his chin wobbled. 

"You are? It took you this long?" He hoped he kept it cool.

"Yes, actually. It's a good reset of my calendar. The universe is so scattered, so many time zones to remember when you're asked to just pop about everywhere and anywhere. Shall we do something special next year? It's the end of our 'contract' isn't it? You said, ten dates, ten years. Well we've just about fulfilled that."

And as Chanyeol's heart plummeted back down, he nearly missed the gloom on Baekhyun's face as he anticipated the end, one year from today. 

"Shall we return to Oreison? There's a new hotel there opening there. I'm invited to the grand opening ceremony. I'll sing. You can be my Plus One. Nothing special, just an afterparty and free accommodations for as long as I like."

And there was a promise in Baekhyun's eyes that Chanyeol had rarely scene. One given with unease but eagerness, a light to spark his hope. 

 

 

 

⬙ ⬘

  
  
  
  
  
He pushed Baekhyun down onto the bed, hands busy, mouth searching. A low moan ripped from his lungs as he pulled back and tugged off his clothes. His shirt got stuck on his shoulder, his belt refused to unfasten easily. One sock stayed persistently put but Chanyeol growled again and yanked it off. Baekhyun lay motionless on the bed, eyes on fire, lighting up when Chanyeol threw himself upon him again. Instantly, Baekhyun spun, bare legs tightening around Chanyeol’s waist as he flipped them over. Then he was the one hovering above, hands busy on Chanyeol’s waist, mouth searching for a nipple, the hollow of his neck, anything he could get his lips around.  
  
At the first velvety touch of Baekhyun’s hand around his cock, Chanyeol keened. His body turned rigid, head falling back, throat on display. Baekhyun sucked on that too as he worked them both up into a rage of desire.  
  
Chanyeol fitted their hips together, guiding Baekhyun to sink onto his length. They cried out in rhythm with each other, shallow thrusts growing deeper.  
  
Then, just before he could come, Chanyeol said those stupid, stupid words.  
  
“Baekhyun… I think… I think I love you.”  
  
Baekhyun gasped, and stilled. He’d had his hand on cock. Now, he let it go.  
  
“What?”  
  
Sweat poured instantly from Chanyeol’s pours. His heart tensed up, panic sinking in as he sang every curse word in every language in all the known galaxies.  
  
Because Baekhyun was just a high class whore with a no-love clause in his contract.  
  
“What did you say?” Baekhyun’s voice was high pitched and throaty, and clearly alarmed.  
  
Chanyeol winced, cock still deeply embedded, painfully throbbing and hard.  
  
“I said… shit.”  
  
Tentatively, Baekhyun moved again, eliciting a shocked response from the man underneath him. Then he laughed.  
  
“Ten years, Chanyeol, I gave you ten years as promised, because damn you, you knew it. You knew I would fall in love with you, and now after all this time you only _think_ you love me?! _Prince_ Chanyeol, I’ve forgiven much, including your stupid title and your wretched family, all because you saved my sister and you have the most ridiculous smile, and you set this up so brilliantly to woo me over ten long ass years, but would you please think about that and _rephrase your goddamned confession?”_


End file.
